


Losing Control

by reidsbau



Series: Losing Control [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Blow Jobs, Choking, Conflicted Spencer Reid, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark topics at times, Dom Spencer Reid, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fingering, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Happy Spencer Reid, Kissing, Making Out, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Professor AU, Romance, Rough Sex, Sad Spencer Reid, Serious Talks, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Spencer has a daddy kink, Sub Spencer Reid, Trust Issues, Unprotected Sex, Use of Good Girl, Vaginal Fingering, dom reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:40:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 83,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reidsbau/pseuds/reidsbau
Summary: You're close to snagging your second bachelor's degree in Psychology, one step closer to being a criminal profiler. However, your world shifts when you meet FBI Special Agent Spencer Reid one night at a bar. Not to mention--he's your Human Behavior professor for the semester. Could you lower your barriers enough to get close to someone, or will your emotions be your downfall?
Relationships: Spencer Reid & Reader, Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Series: Losing Control [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899070
Comments: 145
Kudos: 504





	1. Spencer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were on a night out with your roommate, and everything changed when she forced you to talk to SSA Spencer Reid.

“Come on! It’s the last day of winter break!”

You sighed, pushing your _Psychology behind Human Behavior_ book off your lap. “And? We’ve gone out so much this week already!”

Jamie plopped on the couch beside you. “Yes, and? It’s the last day of your undergrad winter break.”

“Technically, this is the second last day I’ve had of undergrad winter break,” you retorted, grinning. 

“Yes, whatever, Miss ‘I’m getting my second bachelor’s degree.’” Jamie pushed her straight blonde hair out of her face and looked at you, her eyes pleading.

You groaned. “Fine. We can go to the bar next to the college.” A smile appeared on your face as you looked at your erratic roommate. “We can stay out as late as you want.”

Jamie cheered, jumping off the couch and waltzing to her room. You shook your head, chuckling softly as you watched Jamie’s figure disappear past the door frame. Looking over at your half read book, you marked your page before closing it. It was a book for one of your upcoming classes: Human Behavior. You tried to be a very studious person—reading your lecture books ahead of time, always doing your homework, always studying. It wasn’t like you didn’t know how to let loose—you just chose very carefully when those times were. But Jamie was right: you had one more semester left and your second bachelor’s degree was complete. It was time to celebrate, even if the celebrations were a little premature.

Standing up, you stretched as you made your way to your room. Setting the book on your desk, you ran your fingers over the wood surface, everything neatly in its place. You liked neat and tidy. Whistling under your breath, you rifled through your closet until you found a short red dress, low-cut enough to reveal your cleavage. It was loose around the waist and stomach—not wanting to show off your figure like that. You didn’t like to admit it, but your body was probably one of your biggest insecurities. 

_It’s because of the societal pressures of how you think you’re supposed to look,_ you thought to yourself. _Oh, and the fact that you were relentlessly bullied and have psychological trauma from it._

You cursed yourself under your breath. You hated profiling yourself. It was one of your worst habits, and something you were going to have to get over if you wanted to go into criminal profiling.

Trying to distract yourself from your thoughts, you focused on your hair and makeup. You left your hair loose around your face and opted for minimal makeup—a little black eye shadow and mascara, some highlight, and red lipstick. Slipping on a pair of black heels, you grabbed your small black purse, big enough for your ID and some cash. You also threw on a thick black jacket—it was Virginia in the middle of winter, AKA cold as shit.

“Jamie?” You called out as you walked back into the living room. “Are you ready or what?”

“Hold your fucking horses,” Jamie called from her room. 

You chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter. Jamie liked her appearance to be perfect, and most of the time it was. She was the opposite of you—confident in her body, able to talk to guys with no problems, an absolute knockout. Despite Jamie’s looks and predisposition to be the mean girl type, she was the opposite of that—always willing to help you find new friends, be your wing-woman, one of the most down to earth people you knew. She was your best friend.

Walking out of her room, Jamie grinned as she took in your outfit. “You look beautiful, babe!”

“You do, too, Jamie,” you replied, grinning. “Ready?”

Jamie nodded and the two of you headed out to the bar. It was right across from the main campus, about a five minute walk. You shivered, the cold air whipping across your face as you and Jamie walked, arms linked together. Small flakes of snow fell from the sky, visible through the lamplight as it fell. 

As the two of you walked into the Striped Stormcloud—an interesting name for a college bar—warm air hit your skin. High-top tables were scattered around the establishment, a small stage in the corner for karaoke. It was crowded—as you predicted it would be the last day of break. Pushing through the small crowd, the two of you made your way to the bar. The bartender smiled at the two of you, paying special attention to Jamie.

“What’ll it be?” He asked, never taking his eyes off Jamie.

“Vodka martini!” Jamie said, voice loud over the music. She glanced at you and the bartender’s eyes shifted.

“Rum and coke!” you said, just as loud. 

The bartender nodded, going off to make your drinks. He returned after a short time, setting the drinks down in front of the two of you, grinning at Jamie. 

“Don’t worry about this round,” he said, winking before walking away.

Jamie picked up her drink, eyeing you. “Can you say gross?”

You laughed, picking up your drink and taking a sip. You glanced around the bar, looking at the faces of everyone dancing and mingling in the bar. You recognized a few from your psych classes, but most of the faces were strangers. Your eyes wandered to the end of the bar, a figure catching your eye.

He was lean—that was the first thing you noticed. Your second thought was that he was dressed pretty nice for a college bar—blue dress pants, a white button up, blue tie. Your eyes moved up to his face. Brown hair falling in messy waves around his shoulders, a sharp jaw, medium sized nose. He was cute…very cute.

You felt Jamie nudge you and you looked at your roommate.

“Do you think he’s cute?” She asked, grinning at you.

A blush fell over your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Go talk to him!” Jamie urged, pushing you slightly.

“I-I can’t,” you said, your voice a high-pitched squeak. “I’ll just embarrass myself!”

“Look at me,” Jamie said, looking into your eyes. “You are smart. You are beautiful. You are the most fucking amazing person I’ve ever met. So go talk to him!”

Taking a deep breath and chugging your drink, you nodded. “Thanks, Jamie,” you said, giving your roommate’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before making your way to the end of the bar. 

Your heart was going a million miles a minute as you slid into the chair next to the handsome stranger, resting your hands on the bar. You felt his gaze shift to you and you swallowed, nervous, before looking over at him.

“Hi,” you said, looking into his eyes. They were a soft brown color—your favorite eye color. A small smile appeared on your face.

The stranger returned your smile—a very beautiful smile, by the way—and let out a small breath of air. “Well, hello.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” You asked, glancing down at his almost empty glass.

His smile widened and he nodded. “Of course.”

“What are you having?” You asked, tapping your fingers on the bar counter.

“Whiskey,” he said, chuckling softly. “On the rocks.”

You clicked your tongue. “A manly man, I see.”

His chuckle turned into a laugh and he downed the rest of his drink. The bartender came back over and you ordered the handsome stranger a whiskey and another rum and coke for yourself. 

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” he said, extending a hand.

You took it, looking into his eyes. “I'm y/n.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, his hand lingering in yours for a moment.

You smiled again, the bartender bringing over your drinks. Taking a sip, you grimaced a bit. It was a little stronger than the last one.

“So what brings you a college bar?” You questioned, resting your hand on the side of your forehead as you looked at Spencer. 

“I take offense,” he said, although his smile said otherwise. “Do I not look college aged to you?”

You let out a small laugh. “Actually, I’m the furthest person to judge. I’m twenty-six and still in school.” 

Spencer took a sip of his drink, shaking his head. “No, I’m not in college. I’ve done the college thing—many times.”

“Many times?” You asked, furrowing your brow.

He nodded. “I have three BA’s—psychology, sociology, and philosophy—although that one’s in progress. I also have three PHD’s in math, chemistry, and engineering.”

“Ah, so I should be calling you doctor, then,” You said, grinning at him. 

“Only if you want,” Spencer replied, a glint in his eye. 

“All of those degrees and you’re what—twenty-nine? Thirty?”

“Thirty,” he confirmed. 

“I also assume you have a pretty important job,” You noticed, taking a long sip of your drink.

Spencer tilted his head. “Why do you say that?”

You scoffed. “You come to a college bar in dress pants and a tie.” Your eyes glanced down to his belt. “You also have an empty gun holster on your belt, so I’m assuming police or detective.”

“Impressive,” Spencer said, shifting in his seat. His hands fell to his lap, shifting his body to face you. “FBI.”

“Now it’s my turn to say I’m impressed,” you said, grinning. “What do you do for the FBI? Or is it a secret?”

Spencer’s light laugh rang out around the two of you. “It’s not a secret.” He downed his whiskey. “I work for the BAU—the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I’m a profiler.”

Your eyes widened. “No fucking way.”

“What?” Spencer asked, motioning to the bartender.

“That’s what I’m in school for,” you admitted, downing the rest of your drink. “Oh, and it’s your turn to buy.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to your drink and he rolled his eyes but smiled as he ordered another round from the bartender. 

“So you’re in school to be a profiler,” Spencer said, his tongue flicking over his lips. 

You nodded, trying not to stare at his mouth. “Yep, getting my BA in Psychology this semester, then onto grad school for my masters in Criminal Psychology.”

“You’re smart,” Spencer said as your drinks got placed in front of the two of you.

A light blush crept over your cheeks. “I try.”

“No need to downplay how smart you are,” he replied. “You did a pretty good job profiling me the little you did.”

You met his eyes. “Really?”

Spencer nodded, shifting closer to you. “Yeah, you even caught me off guard—which is hard to do.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he moved closer. Your knees were touching his, your face hot. “W-well, thank you.”

“You’re nervous,” he noticed.

“You’re cute,” you admitted, the words slipping from your mouth before you could catch them. 

Spencer gave a breathy laugh. “Straight to the point, huh?”

“I don’t…” you trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I don’t usually do this. Talk to guys in bars.”

“Social anxiety?” Spencer guessed, sipping his whiskey.

You grimaced. “A little.” You looked to the side to see Jamie talking to some hunky football player type—her usual taste.

“That your friend?” Spencer asked, following your gaze.

“Roommate,” you said, your attention shifting to the drink in front of you. 

“Let me guess…” Spencer trailed off, clicking his tongue. “She is the one every guy wants to talk to when you two go out together. It makes you insecure.”

You bit your lip, looking at Spencer again. “Those degrees are sure paying off.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Spencer said, chuckling as he finished his drink. 

The two of you were quiet for a moment as you finished your drink, tapping your fingers on the wooden counter top again. You glanced over at Spencer to find his brown eyes already on your face. His eyes flicked up to meet yours and he smiled.

“Do you wanna get out of here? Go outside maybe?” Spencer asked, eyes never leaving yours. 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you said, standing up. You felt warm and tingly—a side effect of the rum. “Let me go tell Jamie where I’m going.”

Spencer stood and you realized how tall he really was—at least 6 feet, towering over your 5 feet, 4 inches. Taking a deep breath, you walked over to Jamie, explaining that you were going out front to get some air with Spencer.

“Good luck,” Jamie said, giving you a wink.

You rolled your eyes and smiled at Jamie before rejoining Spencer. You led him through the crowd, his hand on the small of your back. His touch sent a small rush of heat through you and your heartbeat increased. You pushed the door open and the cold air hit your body, Spencer’s hand leaving your back as the two of you stepped outside.

You and Spencer walked toward the far right side of the building, not saying anything. You were nervous—swearing that he could hear your heartbeat with how loud it felt in your chest. Stopping, you leaned against the brick of the building, looking at Spencer.

“Sometimes I forget how cold it gets here,” Spencer said, looking up at the small snowflakes drifting through the air.

“I like the cold,” you say, grinning. 

“Why’s that?” Spencer asked, leaning against the wall next to you. His arm touched yours.

“I like the clothes,” you chuckled. “Plus, it always snows. I love snow.”

You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you and you swallowed, looking down at the ground. 

“Why are you so nervous?” Spencer asked, shifting his body so that he was in front of you.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes before looking back down. “You just make me nervous, I guess.”

“Why?” Spencer questioned, his left hand gripping your chin softly, tilting your head up to look at him. 

Despite the cold, your face felt hot, looking into Spencer’s eyes. “I told you…I, um, don’t do this a lot.”

Spencer’s thumb moved to your mouth, running along the edge of your lips. “Talk to guys outside of bars?”

“You know what I mean, Spencer,” you say softly, mouth slightly agape.

“Do I?” He asked, a hint of smugness lacing his tone. 

He had to know--you knew that. He was a fucking profiler, for god sake. Instead of answering him, you opened your mouth a bit more, slipping his thumb inside slowly. Spencer gasped, your actions seeming to catch him off guard. You met his eyes for a moment before lowering your gaze, tongue running around his thumb slowly. After a moment, you released his thumb, meeting his eyes again.

“I know you do,” you said, inhaling deeply.

Spencer’s eyes searched yours for a moment before bringing his lips to meet yours. The kiss was anything but hesitant, Spencer taking complete control of the situation. Your hands ran up his arms to his shoulders before twisting your fingers in his hair, causing Spencer to emit a small groan of delight. 

You didn’t think this is how your night was going to go—making out with an almost stranger right outside of the bar. To your surprise—you didn’t mind.

Spencer deepened the kiss, his hands wandering down your back to rest just above your ass. You let out a small moan into his mouth, causing Spencer to bite your bottom lip softly. 

“Do you want to go back to my place?” He asked, panting softly from the kiss.

“I-I want to, but I…I can’t,” you stutter, biting your lip nervously, your grip on his hair loosening.

“Why not?” Spencer asked, one of his hands running up your back to your neck, smoothing your hair out.

“I, um, I don’t really—“

“Are you a virgin?” Spencer asked, eyes searching yours. “N-not that I would judge you if you were! I’m just curious.”

Your eyes widened. “No! No. I just, um…I don’t have sex with a lot of strangers.” You looked down, feeling stupid. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just…”

“You don’t trust me enough to have sex with me,” Spencer finished your sentence. 

“I’m sorry, I know that sounds stupid—“

“No, it doesn’t,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “Odds are something happened in your past to make it hard for you to open up sexually to strangers. It’s not stupid.”

You met his gaze again and bit the inside of your cheek. “I could, um, give you my number? Maybe we could see each other again?”

A small smile played on Spencer’s lips. “I’d like that.”

“Maybe I could even end up trusting you,” you teased, leaning in to kiss Spencer softly again.

He kissed you back and smiled. “Is that right?”

Nodding, you laughed, the tension seeming to ease. 

After exchanging numbers and saying goodbye, you found Jamie at the bar.

“Wanna go home?” You asked, leaning against the bar.

“No handsome stranger tonight?” Jamie asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Got his number,” you said proudly, grinning. 

“So there’s hope after all!” Jamie exclaimed.

Looking down at Spencer’s number in your phone, you smiled. “Yeah, it seems that way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! It’s my first chapter of my new fanfic! I’m excited to be writing this :)  
> If y’all like this fic, you should check out my other work in progress, my Kylo Ren fic entitled: the Tutor!  
> I appreciate all comments and feedback :)


	2. Intense Concentration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of classes were always a whirlwind. They got even weirder for you when you realized who your Human Behavior professor was.

Your alarm jolted you awake, pulling you out of the deep sleep you'd been having. Groaning, you turned off the alarm; your face hitting your pillow again as you struggled to wake up. You picked up your phone, checking the time: 7:15 am. 

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes softly, glancing down at your phone again, seeing a message on the screen. Your heart skipped a beat, grinning as you read the words.

_From: Spencer_  
_Morning, sleepyhead. Hope you have a good day. Maybe we can talk later?_

You smiled down at the phone as you typed a quick response.

_To: Spencer_  
_Sounds good. I get out of class at around 4 today!_

Pressing send, you got up, stumbling to the bathroom to brush your teeth and throw your hair in a ponytail. You yawned, throwing on a large gray sweater and a pair of leggings, not really bothering with looking nice. After almost six years in school, you didn’t give a damn what your other classmates thought of you. Grabbing your bag and your Human Behavior book, you walked into the kitchen. You poured yourself a cup of coffee to go before you left, not bothering to check if Jamie was awake. Jamie didn’t schedule herself for 8 am classes—she liked her beauty sleep.

The cold air hit you abruptly, stinging your face as you stepped outside. Shivering, you briskly walked to Wyman Hall, where your 8 am Human Behavior class was held. The wind was blowing softly, rustling the trees, frost covering the grass besides the hall. 

_It’s so pretty like this,_ you thought, smiling to yourself, pushing open the door to the building.

The climb to the second floor seemed to wind you, but you found room 218 quickly. You took a seat in the front row, directly center. You liked to have a good view of the board—trying to be an excellent note taker. Pulling out your blue notebook, you opened it, scribbling the date on the top of the paper. 

To pass the extra ten minutes, you opened up your Human Behavior book, picking up where you'd left off the night before. You were so entranced with your book, you didn’t notice when 8 o’clock hit—or when a very familiar figure in a blue sweater vest entered the classroom.

“Hello, everyone!” 

Your head snapped up, eyes landing on none other than Spencer. Your mouth flew open, his eyes flicking over to you. A coy smile played on his lips—lips you had kissed not even 24 hours ago.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, and I’m going to be your professor this semester for Human Behavior.” He leaned against his desk, tucking his hands into the blue dress pants he was wearing. “I usually work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI in Quantico, but they’ve agreed not to use me Mondays and Wednesdays, so long as we’re not out of state on a case, so I can teach this semester. I look forward to learning about every single one of you.” He wasn’t looking at you, but you felt like he was speaking directly to you. 

Your cheeks flushed as you looked down at your notebook paper, wanting to groan. Of course, _of course_ Spencer was your professor. Inhaling deeply, you raised your head to glance at Spencer, who now had his arms folded.

“I’m a criminal profiler, which just means I solve murders using what I know about human behavior and psychology,” He said, glancing around the room. “Many serial killers tend to use patterns—they repeat themselves.” Unfolding his arms, he walked around to the back of the desk. “I use my skills to try to think like the unsub—or unknown subject—to try and guess their next move. Where are they going? Why are they doing the things they’re doing? Do they do it for pleasure or for justice?”

Your eyes were on Spencer’s face, never leaving. The way he spoke was entrancing, and you were hanging off every word he said. 

“So hopefully, by the end of this course, I’ll have taught you about different types of human behavior and you will be able to recognize them. Having psychological insight of humans in the basis of psychology.” Spencer smiled at the class. “So, who can tell me what human behavior is?” He asked.

Your hand flew up before you could catch herself.

“Yes?” He didn’t bother looking down at the roster.

“Human behavior is just a range of behaviors exhibited by humans in response to their environment or everyday life,” you said, putting your arm down to rest on your notebook.

“Very good,” Spencer said, a small smile on his lips. “And how many types of human behavior are there?”

“Three, if you’re pairing likeness. Six if you’re counting them individually,” you responded, meeting his eyes. 

Spencer couldn’t hide the impressed look in his eyes. “And what might those be?”

“Molecular and moral, covert and overt, and voluntary and involuntary.”

A small chuckle slipped past Spencer’s lips. “I see someone has already started their reading.”

You felt your face get hot, cheeks practically on fire as you averted your gaze. “Yes, sir.”

Spencer gave you a small nod, obviously pleased, before continuing class, passing out the syllabus and explaining how the semester would work. He assigned the reading for the night, which of course, you had already completed. He dismissed class half an hour early, standing at his desk to pack up his things. 

You packed up your bag slowly, letting the other students file out the door before standing up, walking over to Spencer. You approached the front of his desk, biting your lip.

“You didn’t mention you were teaching,” you simply said, eyes on the floor.

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Spencer retorted, pulling his bag to his shoulder. 

“Of course you didn’t, doctor,” you teased, the glint in Spencer’s eye returning as you addressed him.

“I don’t think this class will be very hard for you,” he said, walking over to the front of you. “You’re…very smart.”

“I read in advance,” you admitted, the blush returning to your cheeks. 

Spencer’s small smile made you feel warm. “You have no idea how attractive that sentence is to me.”

You laughed, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “Do you…maybe want to go do something after I get out of classes today?”

“Won’t you have homework?” He asked you, seeming genuinely concerned.

“No, you dork,” you giggled. “It’s syllabus day. I think you’re the only person who’s going to assign any sort of reading.”

“Good thing you’ve already read it,” Spencer said, grinning as he brought his hand up to the side of your face, catching a piece of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail. He tucked it behind your ear gently and your pulse picked up.

“So, I’ll see you after class then?” You asked.

“Sure,” he confirmed. “Where?”

“I live in one of those big student dorms—with the kitchens and stuff. Room 17 in Cherry Hall,” you said. “Four-fifteen sharp.” You turned to walk away, stopping in the door frame to look back at him. “”And don’t be late…professor.”

You noticed the dangerous glint in Spencer’s eye as you turned back around, heading to your 9:30 am class.

Your classes passed quickly, your mind distracted by the opportunity to see Spencer again—albeit he was your professor. Shaking that thought away, you were happy when your Abnormal Psychology professor let the class go early, speed walking back to your dorm. Opening the door, you were met by Jamie who was lounging on the couch.

“Well you are certainly out of breath,” Jamie mused as you stopped in the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water.

“Handsome stranger is coming by,” you simply said, trying not to look too offended when Jamie’s eyes widened.

“No fucking way,” she exclaimed, jumping up off the couch. “What are you two going to do?”

Your mind went blank, realizing you didn’t really have a plan for you and Spencer tonight. “Uh…I actually have no idea.”

Jamie laughed, shaking her head. “You should do something romantic.”

“Romantic?” You asked, knowing full well you had little to no experience in the romance department.

“Yeah, cook him something. Or watch his favorite movie and try not to act surprised when your fingers touch in the popcorn bowl.” Jamie sighed happily as she got swept up in her little romantic daydream.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, Jamie,” you mused, pushing open your bedroom door to throw your backpack inside. “Oh, not to mention he’s my human behavior professor.”

“WHAT?” Jamie shouted, her face lighting up. “That’s so scandalous! What’s his name again?”

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” you answered, smiling at the thought of him.

“Doctor?” Jamie questioned, giggling.

“It’s a long story, Jamie, but I’ll tell you all about it later,” you say, biting your lip. “For now, I love you, but leave.” 

Jamie giggled, the sound high pitched and taunting. “Fine, fine. I’ll be back later.”

You exchanged goodbyes and got dressed, putting on a pair of black high-waist jeans and a t-shirt, pulling your hair down out of the ponytail, attempting to smooth it down. 

“Shit,” you muttered, walking into the kitchen. “What am I gonna do with you, Spencer?”

Shifting through the food in your fridge, you found nothing to cook with, so instead you settled on Jamie’s second proposed option: movie and popcorn. A sharp knock at the door made you gasp, startling you, eyes flicking to the clock. 4:15 exactly.

Opening the door, Spencer Reid’s figure appeared in front of you, donned in that same sweater vest combo he was wearing earlier in class.

“You’re very punctual, professor,” you teased, opening the door wider so he could walk through it.

“No need for the pleasantries, just call me Spencer,” he joked back, eyes glancing around the apartment. “I’d prefer doctor over professor though.”

Your laugh rang out around the empty apartment, drawing Spencer’s eye to you. 

“So,” he said, leaning against the counter, “what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was going to cook but I have nothing to cook with so, maybe we could watch a movie? Whatever your favorite is?” You suggested, a blush creeping over your cheeks the longer Spencer looked at you.

“You were going to cook for me?” Spencer asked, his tone light. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Your face grew hotter, rolling your eyes, popping a bag of popcorn into the microwave. “You’re my professor, what would people think?” You were jesting, turning around to sweep your eyes over Spencer’s figure.

He chuckled. “My favorite movie is the Third Wave.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Hardcore.”

“When I was younger my favorite was Babar,” he admitted, a sheepish grin on his face.

“That’s fucking adorable,” you said, returning his grin. “The Third Wave it is.”

Pouring the popcorn into a bowl, you and Spencer settled on the couch, not necessarily close, but not far away either. The bowl sat between the two of you, warmth radiating to both of your thighs. You started the movie, sitting back to enjoy something you’d never seen—but you’d never admit that to Spencer.

The movie passed in silence and you found yourself being drawn in to the world of mobsters and crime. You absent-mindedly grabbed at the popcorn, not really taking your eyes off of the screen. If you did, you would've noticed Spencer glancing at you every so often, a small smile on his face. 

Reaching into the bowl once more, you gasped as your warm hand bumped Spencer’s cold one, startled at the sudden touch.

“Did I scare you?” He asked, his voice amused.

You let out a shaky laugh. “No, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Spencer lifted your hand out of the bowl, his fingers fiddling with your own. “You have intense concentration.”

“It’s an interesting movie,” you responded, the small blush from before creeping onto your cheeks. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Spencer replied, using his other hand to grab the popcorn bowl, setting it on the table in front of the two of you. 

His hand stayed in yours, lacing his fingers through yours slowly. Your gaze went from his hands to his face, his soft brown eyes already looking at you. He moved closer to you, his other hand moving to brush against your cheek, emitting another gasp from you. Spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck softly.

“I-I don’t know how the movie ends,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut as his soft lips moved up your neck. 

“Happy ending.” Spencer’s breath was hot against your ear as his lips move across your jaw, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You say nothing as his lips hover over yours, not touching. You close the space between the two of you, bringing your lips to his. The kiss was gentle, not fiery like the one the night before had been. Spencer’s hands went to the sides of your face, cupping it as he kissed you. 

Your hands ran up his chest, gripping his shirt tightly as the two of you kissed. Deepening the kiss, Spencer’s hands went to your hair, gripping it before pulling it slightly, a moan slipping past your lips as he exposed your neck.

“You like that,” he mused, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking softly at the pale flesh. 

“D-don’t profile me, doctor,” you stuttered, another soft moan leaving you as he littered your neck with hickeys.

“Don’t make it so easy for me, then.”

Releasing the hold on your hair, you brought your lips back to his, your fingers twisting in his hair now, the kiss becoming more urgent. The mood, of course, was shattered when a shrill ring of a phone came from Spencer’s pocket.

“Shit,” he said, breaking the kiss, panting slightly as he reached into his pocket, bringing the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Hotch?”

You fiddled with Spencer’s fingers, bringing his pointer finger to your mouth, letting your tongue swirl around it. Spencer’s eyes were fixated on your mouth; stifling groans as he listened to the male voice speak on the other end of the line. Taking his whole finger in your mouth, you sucked on it lightly, noticing the slight twitch in his pants.

“Y-yeah, Hotch, I’ll be there soon.” Hanging up, Spencer let out a loud groan as he pulled his finger from your mouth. “You’re evil.”

“Not evil, just a tease,” you countered. “Sometimes.”

Spencer took a deep breath. “Well, I hate to cut the evening short, but I have to go work a case.” He stood up and your eyes flicked to the bulge in his pants. 

“Serial killers never rest, I guess,” you respond, standing up and grabbing the popcorn bowl. Setting it down on the kitchen counter, you felt slightly disappointed that Spencer was leaving.

“I’m sorry,” he said, walking over to you.

“It’s alright,” you responded, truthfully. You still weren't sure if you even wanted to have sex with Spencer yet—as convincing as he can be. 

He leaned down, giving you a soft kiss. “I’ll see you Wednesday for class.”

Deciding to leave him with a tease, you bit his bottom lip slowly, a small groan coming from him. “I look forward to it, _professor._ ”

That glint in Spencer’s eye returned and he chuckled. “You’re going to get me in trouble one of these days.”

You say nothing, just laugh as you watch Spencer’s figure disappear through the doorway. You lean against the counter, replaying the events of the evening in your head. Spencer was sweet—unlike a lot of guys you’d met before. He was smart, into the same stuff you were into, and obviously very skilled in bed—something you knew was true despite the fact that you haven’t had sex with him. Of course he had to complicate things by being your professor, but that detail didn’t bother you so much.

You bit your lip, sighing as you retreat back into your room. Throwing on a pair of loose shorts and a tank top, you lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, your phone chimed.

_From: Spencer_  
_I had fun tonight. Too bad the evening had to get cut short._

You smile. Knowing he had a good time made you feel good.

_To: Spencer_  
_I had fun, too. Be careful on your case, I expect to see you bright and early on Wednesday morning, professor._

It only took a second before his response came through.

_From: Spencer_  
_Don’t worry, darling. I can handle myself._

You laugh and put your phone to the side. There was just something about Spencer Reid that made you feel at ease, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

Drifting off, your last thoughts were of him as sleep pulled you under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love a little smut and a little fluff.  
> I'm really deadset on making this a really cute romance with a shit ton of fluff mixed in, and I can't wait.  
> Thanks for your kudos!


	3. Dominance and Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After not hearing from Spencer in three days, you decide to get drunk.

It had been approximately three days since you had talked to Spencer. You saw him in class on Wednesday, where he told you he was still working his case and bolted shortly thereafter. If you were being truthful, you missed his witty banter and conversation—talking to Jamie just wasn’t the same. You couldn’t help but feel this weird gravitational pull toward Spencer. It wasn't explainable. 

Sighing, you adjusted yourself on your bed, sitting up and crossing your legs. Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through the short text conversation you and Spencer had Wednesday night, the thread not long enough to satisfy your need to speak to him. Standing up, you went into the kitchen, deciding to distract yourself with alcohol for the night. Jamie was over at some boys house, certain not to be back until tomorrow.

Skipping the pleasantries, you decided to drink straight rum. It was a Saturday night, you had done your homework for the weekend, and you needed a distraction. Taking the bottle to the couch, you hummed as the warm feeling washed over you. Flipping through Netflix, you decided on re-watching Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, one of your favorite shows. What could you say, you liked musicals and the way the show tried to break the stigma around mental illness. 

“I’m just a girl in loooove,” you sang along to the intro, taking a swig of the rum from the bottle. 

After a few episodes, you could only describe yourself as quite drunk, giggling to the action on the TV. You didn’t get drunk often--you were pretty serious about school—but when you did, you went pretty hard. Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through you and Spencer’s texts once more, growing more frustrated by the second that you hadn’t heard Spencer’s voice in three days. Before you knew it, you were hitting the call button, pulling the phone up to your ear.

After two rings, he answered. 

“Yes?” He answered, voice sounding only slightly strained.

“Hey, you,” you responded, a small giggle bursting out of your mouth.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked.

“I’m grrreat,” you said, shifting your position to pull your knees up to your chest.

“You’re drunk.” It was a statement, not a question.

“So what if I am?” You replied, another laugh leaving you.

“It’s just amusing,” Spencer mused, and you could hear a smile in his voice. “You know, there are a few reasons why someone drunk calls someone else: entertainment, social lubrication, confession of emotions, coordination, or to set up a sexual encounter. Any of those reasons why you called me?”

“God, I forget that you’re a genius sometimes.” You grin, taking another sip of rum. “I just haven’t heard your voice in a while.”

“Studies also show that people tend to say what they’re really thinking or feeling while under the influence,” Spencer went on. “Is this your way of saying you miss me?”

You were silent for a moment. “Maybe.” Biting your lip, you tried to choose your next words carefully. “I’d ask you to come over, but you’re working a case right now.”

“I’m still in Virginia.” That sentence shouldn’t have made you as excited as it did. “I’m exactly thirteen minutes away from your dorm.”

“Thirteen? Wow,” you muttered, the rum burning your throat as another sip disappeared. “Don’t expect sex if you come over, though, doctor. I’m inebriated.”

A low laugh escaped past Spencer’s lips. “The first time we have sex, I want you to remember it.”

You took in a sharp breath, the heat going straight to your core. “Positively scandalous, Dr. Reid.” 

You could hear rustling on the other end and the sound of a car door closing. “I can’t promise anything if you keep calling me doctor, though.”

You laughed, biting your lip. “Dr. Reid, am I turning you on?”

You tried to ignore the small grunt that left him. “Truth be told, I’ve been turned on since I answered the phone.”

“No sex tonight,” you repeated, another sip of rum going down your throat.

Spencer laughed again, this time breathless. “I’m on my way.”

You hung up and smiled to yourself, feeling a little too giddy to meet up with a man you’d only known for only a week. A man who was your professor, nonetheless. Setting the rum bottle down, you turned your attention back to the TV, ignoring how fast your heart was beating. After several minutes, a knock sounded at the door.

“Well hello there, Dr. Reid,” you say, a smirk on your face as you opened the door. 

Spencer tensed, hesitating a moment before stepping inside to the living room. He was dressed in a gray sweater and jeans, the most casual you’d ever seen him. “You’re just asking for trouble, darling.”

You giggled, shutting your door and going to sit on the couch. Spencer took a seat next to you, looking at the TV.

“Crazy Ex-Girlfriend,” you say, glancing over at Spencer. “It’s one of my favorite shows.”

“You like musicals?” He remarked, a soft smile on his face.

“I _love_ musicals.”

Spencer shook his head, exhaling deeply as he gave a light chuckle.

“So, question, Spence,” you say casually, sitting criss cross.

“Yes?” Spencer leaned back against the couch, eyeing the bottle of rum on the table.

“Are you dominant or submissive?”

The question caught Spencer off guard. “W-what?”

You laugh. “You’re cute when you’re shy.” Sighing, you repeat the question. “Are you dominant or submissive?”

“Why do you ask?” He retorted, answering your question with his own, something you'd anticipated.

“I tend to realize the more partners know about each other before they have sex, the better the sex is,” you spoke matter-of-factly. 

“What do you think I am?” He asked, wanting to see if you could profile him correctly.

You sigh. “Don’t laugh at me if I’m wrong, I’m drunk.”

Spencer smiled, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “I won’t laugh, I promise.”

“From what I’ve noticed psychologically about dominant and submissive roles, dominant people like to be in control. They usually have some aspect of their life they can’t control, whether it be work or some other underlying factor, they’re not in control. Or maybe their job is stressful, so they need somewhere to let the stress out.” You look down at the rum. “In the bedroom, they can have control. They’re usually desperate for some aspect of control, so they take that out on their partner.” You look back up at Spencer. “Whereas, a submissive isn’t afraid to lose control or give up that control.”

“And what are you?” Spencer mused, meeting your gaze.

“I’m not afraid to lose control, especially if it pleases my partner,” you answer, the corners of your mouth turning up. “I like pleasing, and most of the time I can manipulate the situation to where I make them think they have control when they really don’t.”

“So you’re submissive?”

“Switch,” you answer honestly. “A lot of guys are afraid to be submissive, though, mostly because they’re afraid it’s emasculating. They don’t like to lose control or feel less powerful in bed than they already feel in their regular life. They’re afraid.”

“So what do you think I am?” Spencer asked again, genuinely curious.

“I think you’re a switch, but you lean toward dominance.” You smirk at him. “You have a very high stress job. Some aspects of it you can control and some you can’t. I think you need an outlet for your stress.” Spencer’s gaze bore into you. “I rarely think you’re submissive, but I think that some part of you wants to give up control.” 

“Even when you’re drunk you still amaze me with how smart you are,” Spencer said, eyes twinkling.

“Did I just impress the boy genius?” You ask, giggling.

“No, you impressed and majorly turned on the boy genius,” he said.

Your eyes flicked down to his jeans, the noticeable bulge prominent. “You’re not trying to take advantage of one of your drunken students, are you professor?”

Spencer laughed, his hand tracing up the curve of your shoulder. “If anyone is taking advantage of anyone, you’re taking advantage of me.”

You feign shock. “I would never take advantage of anyone!”

Spencer leaned in, his face inches from yours. “You’re cute.”

His words mirrored your own they day you two met and you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Are you trying to seduce me, Dr. Reid?”

“Is it working?” He asked, a breathy laugh leaving him, although he knew it was. He was a fucking profiler.

“You can’t know all my secrets,” you answer, twisting your fingers in his hair and pulling slightly, a small groan coming from Spencer.

Spencer pushed you back on the couch, his body resting between your legs. Hesitating a moment, his eyes met yours before kissing you, the kiss soft at first but growing more urgent with every second. You moan into Spencer’s mouth, your grip staying tight in his hair. Spencer’s hips were flush against yours, his bulge pressing against the thin fabric of your leggings.

Spencer’s fingers played with the hem of your shirt, trying to pull it up when you broke the kiss, your hand going to his, stopping it.

“No,” you said, panic flashing through your eyes, which Spencer noticed. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, squeezing you hand.

Your cheeks burned as a wave of embarrassment washed over you. “I—um, I’m just uncomfortable with my body.”

Spencer’s small smile didn’t feel mocking. “Okay. Clothes stay on.” No explanation needed.

Your own smile was thankful and Spencer kissed along your jaw, lips moving to your neck where he left new hickeys next to the fading ones he’d given you a few days prior. Another moan escapes you and your fingers run through his hair, his right hand running down your body to your leggings, his nails dragging up your inner thighs.

“Fuck,” you whisper, feeling so wet it was a miracle a dark spot wasn’t more noticeable between your legs.

Spencer’s eyes meet yours and he smirked, his fingers trailing up your clothed pussy. “You like that, darling?”

You make a soft whine in response, hips bucking slightly. Spencer’s low laugh washed over you and you felt his hand slip down your leggings, fingers running along the crotch of your panties. 

“Use your words,” he said, his left hand going to twist in your hair.

“P-please, Dr. Reid,” you moan out, feeling one of his fingers push aside your panties.

Spencer groaned at the use of his formal title, keeping your panties pushed aside so he could run his fingers up your wet slit. “Please what?”

“I-I need you inside of me,” you beg, meeting his eyes, desperation in them.

The devilish smirk on Spencer’s face made you whimper as he pushed his slender middle finger inside of your tight core. His eyes never left yours, your breath hitching as he began moving his finger in and out of you slowly.

Your whimpers grew louder as he added his ring finger, curling them inside of you to hit your sweet spot every time. A loud moan left you, the smirk on Spencer’s face growing.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Spencer mused, pumping his fingers faster.

Your back arched, grip tightening in Spencer’s hair as he began finger fucking you faster, crying out as Spencer’s thumb rubbed your clit in circles. You could already feel your orgasm bubbling, eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me, baby girl,” Spencer said, his words causing your eyes to snap open, inhaling sharply at the pet name. “Do you want to cum? You’ve been such a good girl.”

“P-please let me cum, Dr. Reid,” you beg, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continuously hit your g-spot.

“Go ahead and cum, baby girl,” Spencer cooed, kissing you urgently as he thrust into you faster.

Any of your moans were stifled by Spencer, coming undone in front of him as your orgasm washed over you. Your legs shook, the grip in his hair tightening, pussy throbbing erratically around his fingers. Even with your eyes closed, stars danced across your vision, and you broke the kiss to let air into your lungs.

“Fuck!” You cry out, opening your eyes to look at Spencer’s face.

“Such a good girl for me,” Spencer mused, slowly taking his fingers out of your pussy, bringing them up to your mouth.

You slowly took his fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue around them, sucking on them lightly, causing Spencer to moan. You push his long fingers down your throat, gagging slightly on them, another groan leaving Spencer.

“God, you’re dangerous,” he stated, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

“And sleepy,” you say, already coming down from your orgasm. “I want to…you know…” you gestured to the tent in his pants, feeling guilty at how tired your body was.

“Don’t worry about me,” Spencer said, smiling. “Just know when the time comes…”

“You’ll see just how dangerous I am,” you say, the alcohol still affecting how bold you were.

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. “I bet that answers your question about dominance and submission.”

“It does, thanks,” you reply, attempting to stand on shaky legs. 

Spencer helped you up, grinning. He helped walk you to your room, laughing as you plop down on the bed. He stood in the doorway, a little awkward despite what had just happened between the two of you.

“Stay,” you say, voice sleepy.

“What?” Spencer asked, tilting his head.

“Stay with me,” you repeat, turning to look at him. “Unless you don’t want to.”

Spencer hesitated a moment before kicking off his shoes. You move over on the bed, Spencer’s chest hitting your back as he laid down.

“I probably won’t be here when you wake up,” he said honestly. “It’s not that I don’t want to be, it’s just—“

“Case stuff.” You sounded half-asleep.

Spencer smiled. It was comforting, not having to explain himself. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to him as he closed his eyes.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Spence,” you whisper.

Spencer kissed the top of your head, feeling truly content and safe for the first time in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated this twice in one day because I really enjoy writing this so far! I hope everyone likes it.


	4. Oxytocin and Vasopressin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up with a hangover. Spencer has a hard day.

When you awoke the next morning, the first thing you registered was the lack of Spencer’s touch. The weight of his long arms was gone, replaced by a vacant spot behind you in bed. The second thing that registered was the pounding headache, an unfortunate side effect of drinking too much alcohol the night before. 

Rolling over in bed, you saw a glass of water a two ibuprofen on your bedside table that weren't there when you fell asleep.

 _Spencer_ , you thought, a smile creeping onto your face as you remembered what happened last night.

Sitting up, you groan, quickly taking the ibuprofen and downing the water. Today was most certainly going to be a day spent in bed. Pulling out your phone, you type a quick text to Spencer.

_To: Spencer_  
_Thanks for the water and ibuprofen. I feel like hot shit this morning._

Climbing out of bed, you step into the bathroom to quickly take a hot shower, letting the steam try to ease your pounding head. Closing your eyes, your thoughts flash to last night, remembering what had happened between you and Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid. 

Things felt easy when it came to Spencer—and not easy in a negative way. Easy like breathing. Talking to him and just existing with him was easy. A hint of worry crept into your mind, as it always does when you started to get close to anyone. Trying to push it away, you step out of the shower, deciding to dress in a pair of old sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

Walking into the kitchen to get some more water, you stop, noticing the gray sweater that was neatly folded over one of the kitchen chairs. You recognized it—Spencer’s, the one he was wearing last night.

 _Did he leave this here on purpose? Or did he just forget it?_ You thought, picking up the sweater off the chair.

Retreating back into your room, you decide to throw on the sweater. It was soft and comfy, and as soon as you put it on, the scent of Spencer’s subtle cologne washed over you. 

Your phone buzzes and you look down.

_From: Spencer_  
_I expected a hangover, I was just trying to be prepared. Plus, you drank a lot of rum._

Grinning, you respond.

_To: Spencer_  
_That rum gave me some confidence, though. Last night was fun._

His response was immediate.

_From: Spencer_  
_You seem like you enjoyed it, albeit the alcohol might have had something to do with it._

You think for a moment, biting your lip.

_To: Spencer_  
_The alcohol had nothing to do with it, Dr. Reid. It just made me say things sober me wouldn’t._

After a second, you type another message.

_To: Spencer_  
_Remember, I owe you a little something. I’m looking forward to it, Dr. Reid. Oh, and your sweater is really comfortable, by the way._

Your phone buzzes again, and you couldn’t help the small giggle that left your body.

_From: Spencer_  
_Careful, baby girl. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I expect my sweater back tomorrow after class._

Giggling, you type out your last message.

_To: Spencer_  
_I always keep my promises, Dr. Reid. And of course, professor; I’ll even wear it to class tomorrow, just for you._

Setting your phone down, you lay back down, closing your eyes. There was an aspect of flirting with Spencer you enjoyed—he was a fun person to talk to. Flirting had its risks, though, and there were many risks you didn’t like to take, especially in the romance department. 

You didn’t like getting close to people. You had been hurt a lot in your past, so you didn’t trust easily. Feeling yourself start to get too close to someone was an automatic shutdown; you pulled away, shut down your emotions. It was safer that way.

Your mind flashed to Spencer. Part of you only thought he was trying to get close to you to have sex, but the other part thought Spencer was too nice for that. Was he actually genuinely interested in you? Or just with the thought of having sex with you? You remembered the way he didn’t push you to take off your clothes last night. He seemed genuine, not willing to push boundaries. Then you remembered _why_ you didn’t want Spencer to take your clothes off, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

Sighing, you decided to not dredge on the fact, turning on the TV in your room to Crazy Ex-Girlfriend again. Your Sunday was uneventful, napping the whole time, your hangover beginning to fade as the sun set. At around 8 pm, shortly after you'd woken up from your third nap of the day, your phone buzzed. Someone was calling you.

“Hello?” You answered, voice scratchy.

“You sound like hell,” Spencer mused, the smile evident in his voice.

“You try drinking, like, half a bottle of rum and see how you feel afterward,” you retorted, sitting up a bit in bed.

His laugh was like honey. “No thanks, I’ll leave that to you.” He was silent for a moment. “I’m done with the case.”

“Catch the bad guy?” You ask, taking a sip of water.

“We did,” Spencer said, though his voice sounded quieter, almost remorseful.

“You okay?” You knew working criminal cases could be hard—you had researched them, after all.

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound very convincing. “I just have to remember we can’t save them all.”

You were silent for a moment. “Do you need some company?”

You could feel Spencer weighing the decision in his mind, the hesitancy evident. “Yes.”

“I could come to you,” you suggested, wanting for the first time today to get the fuck out of your dorm.

“Okay,” Spencer’s voice was quiet. “I’ll text you the address.”

You were in your car in less than five minutes, driving the short distance to Spencer’s apartment. You were nervous—why? You weren't sure. You parked right outside and locked your car, the cold air piercing. You crossed your arms, grateful for the warmth Spencer’s sweater gave you. Walking up the flight of stairs to 229, you knocked on his door softly.

Spencer always looked tired—but tonight, he looked absolutely exhausted. His hair was unkempt, sticking up in certain places, the circles under his eyes darker than normal. He hadn’t bothered to change out of the blue sweater vest and dress pants he had worn to work that day.

His eyes roamed over you and he gave a small smile. “The sweater looks good on you.” He moved aside to let you in.

“It’s comfortable,” you reply, smiling as you walk into his apartment.

It was tidy. Organized. You had expected something like this—Spencer seemed like too much of a clean freak to not have an apartment where everything had its place. There were books everywhere. That was one of the first things you noticed—bookshelves lining the far left wall by the window packed with different kinds of books. You walk over to the shelves, eyes wide.

“Wow,” you marvel, running your fingertips over the shelves. 

You could feel Spencer behind you. “Yeah, I read a lot,” he muttered.

“Have you read all of these?” You turned your head to look at him.

He nodded. “I read twenty thousand words per minute.”

Your jaw dropped open. “Are you serious?”

His smile was sheepish. “I have an eidetic memory.”

“Of fucking course you do,” you say, giving a breathy laugh. 

Turning away from the books, you walk over to his couch. You stood in front of it, eyeing Spencer's tall frame still by the bookcase.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, noticing how out of focus he seemed.

He walked over to you slowly, nodding. “It was just a hard day.”

You reach out your arms, motioning for him to come to you. You pulled him in for a hug, squeezing him. His arms wrapped around your shoulders and he set his chin on the top of your head, his eyes closing for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes shut.

“Why are you sorry?” He asked, sincerity laced in his voice.

“You’re sad. And stressed,” you say, trying your best not to make it sound like you were profiling him--which of course you were.

He didn’t say anything, keeping his arms around you for a moment more before pulling away. He looked down at you, eyes searching yours.

“You don’t have to apologize for the way I’m feeling,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not,” you retorted. “But it doesn’t take a person who can read people to see you’re not okay.”

Spencer was silent. He knew you you were right. 

“How’s your hangover?” He asked, quickly changing the subject, the shift in mood from personal to casual almost giving you whiplash.

“I napped all day,” you say, sitting back against Spencer’s couch. “But I feel a bit better now.”

“That’s good,” Spencer said, sitting next to you, his hand going to rest on your knee, fingers running random patterns around it.

“Would you be mad if I said I didn’t want to repay you tonight?” You ask.

Spencer’s eyebrows knit together, noticing the subtle hint of genuine fear in your voice. “I wouldn’t be mad. That’s not why I wanted you to come over.”

A flash of surprise was in your eyes and gone just as quickly. “O-oh, okay.”

“Why did you think I would be mad?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

You were silent for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek. Your nervous tic, and Spencer noticed. 

“Do you think I’m only using you for sex?” Spencer asked, not sounding offended or angry, just curious.

You hesitate. “The thought had crossed my mind.” You look up at him, meeting his eyes before lowering your gaze again. “Not that I would think you’d do that…I just have had many experiences where people are only nice to me or hung out with me for one thing.” You say nothing else, not wanting to pour your heart out to the man you’d only known for a week.

Spencer grabbed your chin gently, tilting your head to look up at him. “I don’t know what kind of _boys_ you’ve dealt with in the past, but I’m not one of them. I’m a _man_. I don’t use people for sex. I don’t manipulate people like that. I see too much of that at my job. That’s not who I am.”

You recognized the honest tone in his voice and you nodded. “Thanks, Spencer. Seriously.”

He kept his hand on your chin, a soft smile on his face. “I actually really enjoy hanging out with you. And talking to you.”

Your heart was racing; a small sliver of dread crawling into your stomach like it always did when something like this happened. “Did you know that people are more willing to say they like or love someone after any sort of sexual encounter?”

“Yes,” Spencer responded, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Did you know that lust is the projection and expression of unconscious emotional memories?” You were on the verge of panic, though your voice was calm and fast.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, moving his hands from your chin to your shoulders.

“Lust makes someone feel like they like someone, even if they don’t actually _like_ them. They just like the way the other person makes them feel sexually. It’s an endorphin rush. It’s just oxytocin and vasopressin flooding your brain—“

“Slow down,” Spencer said, his voice low and calm. “Take a deep breath.”

You pause, inhaling deeply. “I’m s-sorry.” 

Spencer ran his hands through your hair gently. “Why are you sorry?”

“I-I spout facts when I get nervous or when I’m trying to avoid something,” you say, knitting your eyebrows together, almost sounding like you were on the verge of tears.

“Okay, okay,” Spencer’s tone was gentle. “Come on.”

He pulled you up and walked you to his bedroom. Disappearing into his closet for a moment, he returned in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Your eyes swept over him and you smiled—this might’ve been the most beautiful you’d ever seen Spencer. You kick off your shoes, watching Spencer lay down in the bed.

“Come here,” he said, using his fingers to motion you forward.

You climb onto the bed, pulling the covers over you as Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, your head lying on his chest. Spencer wanted to press you, to find out why you had freaked out like that. You could feel the question on his lips—but he never asked it. Instead, he held you, one of his hands stroking your hair slowly. You plant a small kiss on his neck before relaxing completely against him.

Spencer needed this—the physical contact. After the day he had, it was the only thing keeping him sane. He felt your steady breathing and closed his eyes, feeling like he’d known the girl in his arms longer than a week. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep in his arms, Spencer slipping into sleep shortly thereafter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not ashamed that this chapter is pure fluff. Spencer is so sweet, ugh.  
> Anyway, thanks for the kudos y'all! I'd love comments and feedback. :)


	5. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deciding to try to cheer Spencer up and distract him from his case, you wear an interesting outfit to class. The effect had mixed results.

It had been a week since you had talked to Spencer in person. Sure, you had class with him, but between class and another case popping up, you hadn’t been able to see him since last Wednesday. Texting just wasn’t the same as hearing his smart ass voice saying something extremely dorky and smart.

Spencer hadn’t asked you about the freak out you’d had a week and a half ago—and you were grateful. At the time, you hadn’t been ready to tell Spencer what it was all about. You didn’t like feeling vulnerable in front of someone—especially someone you may or may not have feelings for. 

But it was Wednesday, and it was almost time for your class with Spencer. You decided you wanted to dress up for him, maybe make him feel a bit better in case the case he was working on was rough. Your thoughts flashed back to Sunday when you’d seen how exhausted and beaten he looked. You bit your lip, rifling through your closet. You smirked as you settled on an outfit.

Spencer was your professor—and you wanted to look the part as his student. You slip on a blue plaid skirt, ending about mid thigh, and a light blue feminine button up to tuck into it. Slipping your feet into a pair of white Vans, you pull your hair into a half-up, half-down style. Your look was just innocent enough to not cause suspicion, but sexy enough for Spencer to know that it was for him. You finish off the look with a blue cardigan

You grab your bag and briskly walked to the lecture hall, arriving at 7:58 AM exactly—knowing Spencer was already there. You wanted him to know what you were wearing, and you wanted it to be all he thought about during class.

Pushing open the door, Spencer’s head rose from the book he was reading, his eyes immediately grazing down your body. His tired eyes met yours, lust and frustration flashing through them which made you smile.

“Good morning, Professor Reid,” you say, slipping into your seat front and center in front of his desk. 

He gave you a brisk nod. “Good morning.”

You notice the slight strain in his voice and you smirk at him, getting out your notebook and Human Behavior book, settling in for a class of note taking. You write the date at the top of the paper before looking up at Spencer again, who was holding his syllabus.

“So, it looks like next class is our first test,” he says, leaning against the front of his desk and crossing his legs at the ankles. “Today, I’m going to break down the exam so you will all have a better idea of how it’s going to work, and then the rest of class can be spent studying.” His eyes flashed to yours and quickly raked down to look at your legs. You spread them slightly, your skirt rising up your thighs and probably giving him a good view of your white panties. After a split second, he exhaled and walked around to his desk, picking up a copy of the exam.

“The exam is split into three parts: short essay answer, multiple question, and matching. Overall, there are fifty questions. Each short answer is five points, matching is a total of twenty points, and multiple question is one point six points each.” He looked around the room at each of the faces in the lecture hall. “I will include three bonus questions, usually short answer, so you all can try to get some extra points in.” 

You were writing down what he was saying, wanting to remember every detail of the exam. You were aiming for a 100—or higher if there were bonus questions. Looking up, you saw Spencer’s gaze on you again, his eyes filled with a hunger you’d never seen before. 

“It will be over chapters one through four, so expect to be reading and studying from the notes we’ve taken over those chapters.” He set the exam down before walking around to the front of his desk again. “Any questions?” No hands rose. “Good. Take this time now to study, whether it is alone or with a partner.” His eyes landed on your again. “Can I see you for a moment? I wanted to answer your question you had about learned behaviors while I’m here.”

You nodded, trying to look as innocent as possible as you rose from your seat. Spencer was already walking out of the classroom and you followed, trying to steady your rising pulse. He said nothing as you wove through a couple hallways until you got to a hallway of offices. Spencer grabbed a key from his pocket and unlocked a door, pulling you through it 

Spencer’s office, if you could call it that, was small. A lone desk sat by the window, the bookshelves bare. Nothing was hanging on the walls, no nameplate on the desk, and no rug on the hardwood floor. Turning around, you saw Spencer lock the door before turning to you, tilting his head.

“Get on your knees,” he said, his voice low.

There was something in his tone that made you shiver, his eyes dark. “W-what?”

“I’m not going to repeat myself, baby girl,” he said, slowly walking over to you and gripping your chin.

Your eyes stayed locked with his as you lowered yourself to the ground, legs spread slightly. “Did I do something, professor?”

Spencer gave a small chuckle, his hands running through your hair. “You show up to class looking like a little schoolgirl, distracting me in front of everyone.” He grabbed a handful of your hair and you gasped. “Now, you act all innocent.”

Spencer’s tone was dark, and you noticed the circles under his eyes. His clothes hadn’t been ironed. It was obvious he hadn’t slept. Whatever this case was, it was getting to him, stressing him out. He needed to lose control, just for a moment.

 _Whatever he wants_ , you thought, _he gets_.

Your hand snaked up his leg and rest on the bulge between them, a soft groan coming from Spencer. You look up at him as you palm his erection, noticing the way it twitched in his dress pants.

“I wore it for you,” you confessed, both of your hands working to undo his belt. “Just for you.”

Spencer’s lips turned up into a small smile. “Is that right? Just for me?”

You nodded and unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down to reveal his erection tenting his boxers You kept your gaze on his crotch as you pushed his boxers down, his dick springing free. You had fantasized about what Spencer’s dick might look like—and your guess had been right. 

He was big and thick, and you looked up at Spencer as you wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft, pumping slowly, your thumb brushing across his tip. Spencer groaned, grip tightening in your hair as you pushed your face closer.

“It’s time for you to show me how dangerous you really are,” Spencer mused, eyes dark.

You looked at him through your lashes and ran your tongue up his shaft, swirling it around his head before taking it in your mouth slowly. Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back slightly, a long moan escaping him. He thrust his hips forward, pushing his dick to the back of your throat and you gagged but kept it there, tears already springing at the corners of your eyes.

“Good girl,” he praised, holding your hair back from your face.

His praise made you moan softly, the sound vibrating up his dick. You worked your mouth up and down his dick, the soft moans leaving Spencer’s mouth sounding like heaven. You could tell he needed more, though.

Taking his dick out of your mouth, he groaned at the loss. “Face fuck me.”

Surprise flashed through Spencer’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

You met his eyes. “Please. Let me help you feel good.”

Spencer nodded, hesitating a moment before pushing his dick past your lips again. This time, he didn’t hold back, thrusting back into your throat. You gagged, letting your jaw hang open as he began to face fuck you. The darkness had returned to his eyes, and a string of groans left him as he repeatedly shoved his dick into the back of your throat.

“God, you’re such a slut. Is this what you wanted, hm? My dick down your throat?” He grunted, his grip on your hair tight.

You could only moan in response, spit and tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You didn’t care. Spencer needed this, and you wanted to help him. 

“Is that why you wore that little outfit today?” He asked, his pace picking up. “You knew you’d get this?”

You could feel yourself getting wetter, a damp spot probably visible in your panties right now. As Spencer’s thrusts got more erratic, you knew he was close. You looked up into his eyes, your statement loud and clear even though you couldn’t say it.

 _Cum for me_.

Spencer held your head in place, obscenities tumbling out of his mouth as he came down your throat, his dick pulsing in your mouth. He held you there for a moment longer before pulling himself out of your mouth. You gasped for air as he did, not moving from your position on your knees as you caught your breath. 

You heard him walk around to his desk before walking back around to you, helping you stand up. His face was calm, nothing like the man who had stood before you a minute earlier. He lifted the tissue he was holding to your face, wiping away the spit and tears. He crumpled the tissue and it fell to the floor. His eyes searched yours, and you noticed the hint of regret in them as he realized what he’d just done.

You cupped his cheeks in your hands and pulled him into a kiss. You needed him to know that it was okay; he didn’t need to be sorry. He wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back deeply. After a moment, you felt wetness on your cheeks again and you pulled away, your eyes searching Spencer’s face.

He was crying. Silent tears fell down his cheeks. You weren’t even sure he realized he _was_ crying. You used your thumbs to wipe his cheeks, touching your forehead to his.

“It’s okay, Spence,” you whispered, knowing his breakdown probably had nothing to do with what just occurred between the two of you. It had probably just triggered it. “You’re okay.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him into a hug, letting his chin rest on the top of your head. He squeezed you tightly, body shaking slightly. You wanted to press him, ask him what was going on, but you didn’t. You just held him, wanting the tears to stop falling.

After a few minutes, he pulled back, sniffing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you whispered, wiping underneath his eyes with your thumbs again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He hesitated a moment. “This case…it’s just really hard. It’s getting to me. I’m so frustrated that I can’t seem to concentrate. The longer we spend running around in circles, the angrier I get.” He lowered his gaze. “Hotch almost pulled me from it, but I insisted I stay on it.” He ran his hands up and down your back absent-mindedly. “And then I come here and…and use you for—“

“Hey,” you interrupt, using your fingers to push his chin up so his gaze could meet yours. “You did _not_ use me. I asked you to do that. I wanted to do that. You needed to lose control, Spence.”

“I feel guilty.” His voice broke and hearing him that broken made your heart sink. “I don’t feel in control.”

You cupped his face again, making him look at you. “Please, Spencer, please don’t feel guilty. You are one of the most amazing and thoughtful humans I’ve ever met.” His teary eyes met yours. “You’re not a bad person. You’re nowhere near bad. I’ve seen bad. You’re not it.”

He smiled softly at you before kissing you again, holding you like he never wanted to let you go. In a matter of three weeks, Spencer Reid had become one of the best parts of your life—and that terrified you. You pulled away, smiling at him.

“Come on, we have to get back to class. People will start to suspect.” 

He smoothed your hair out, trying to make it look like he’d not just had fistfuls of it tangled in his fingers. Giving you another lingering kiss, the two of you walked back to class, hands brushing together as you did. 

Spencer dismissed everyone early and you lingered after class, staying with him.

“Back to the BAU?” You questioned, biting your lip.

“Yes,” Spencer replied, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “We’re so close to a break in this case…” His thoughts wandered and you couldn’t help but feel a little sad he was leaving you.

“I wish I could come along,” you thought out loud, Spencer’s eyes flicking to you.

“What?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Did I say that out loud?” You asked, laughing nervously.

Spencer thought for a moment before tilting his head. “Do you want to come along?”

“Really?” You asked, taken aback by his offer. “I thought you’d be against it.”

“You’re going into this field anyway. Plus…this is a hard case. I can tell the team you’re one of my psychology students going into profiling. We need all the help we can get.” He was babbling, trying to calm himself down.

“Okay,” you simply said, a smile lighting up your face.

“Okay?” He confirmed, walking over to you and squeezing your hand.

“Let’s catch a serial killer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh, reader and Spencer going to work a case together! Yay!  
> Next chapter will introduce the rest of the team and I'm so excited to incorporate them into the story. :)  
> Also I hope you guys enjoyed the fluff in this one.


	6. Working the Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You help the BAU team out with a case they're stumped on.

“So, catch me up on the case.”

You were in Spencer’s car, about twenty minutes out from the BAU. He had so graciously talked to your other professors, telling them he was taking you to on an “educational field trip.” He’d walked you back to your room to change into something more…appropriate for meeting his team. You decided on a pair of jeans, a nice shirt, and a jacket. 

The closer the two of you got to the BAU, the more nervous you got. If your hands sweat anymore than they already were, they’d leave prints on your jeans. Spencer had his eyes fixed on the road, one hand on the wheel, one on his thigh.

“The victims are all male, ages ranging from twenty-five to twenty-seven. All found in various parts of town, all within a few miles of each other. All strangled.”

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes. “Do you have case files and coroners reports on you, by chance?”

“Yeah, backseat.”

You twist your body, reaching behind you to grab the stack of files in the backseat of Spencer’s car. Despite Spencer being an absolute clean freak, his car was a mess. Empty food bags and to go coffee cups were littered in his backseat, along with a large bag and a jacket. You twist back around, readjusting in your seat.

“You know these pictures are pretty graphic,” Spencer warned, eyes flicking to you for a moment before settling back on the road.

You nod. “I know. Stuff like that doesn’t bother me.”

Flipping over the files, you scrunch your eyebrows together. “All strangled with rope.”

Spencer nodded, pursing his lips. “Yes.”

You read over the reports, keeping your thoughts to yourself. You wanted to meet Spencer’s team before voicing any opinions—a thought which made you all the more nervous. What if you embarrassed yourself in front of his friends? What if you pointed them in an even further direction than they are already at?

“Do you guys have any leads?” You ask, eyes browsing over the crime scene photos and victim history.

Spencer clicked his tongue, a sound you realized he only made when he was annoyed. “We’re holding a man—Adam Riley. We haven’t found anything to pin on him, though.” The look of confusion and concern on your face must have gotten Spencer’s attention. “What is it?”

You shake your head. “I’ll tell you when I tell everyone.”

Spencer gave a half smile, his hand moving over to squeeze your knee. “I called Hotch—that’s my boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner. He knows your coming. Despite him being frustrated with me lately, he’s actually grateful for fresh eyes.”

You smile softly, biting your lip. “What if I screw this up?”

Spencer pulls into a parking spot in front of the BAU building, turning off the car. He turns to look at you, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re nervous.” 

You nod, your fingers twiddling with his. “I just don’t want to steer you guys in the wrong direction.”

“You will do fine, I promise. You’re so smart.” His hand moves from your knee to the side of your face. “You don’t even realize how smart you are.” He leans in and gives you a soft kiss, pulling back after a second. “Come on, let’s go.”

You take a deep breath, stepping out of the car, your heart pounding in your chest. You clutch the case files as you walk with Spencer into the BAU, him leading you through an area with desks.

“This is the bullpen,” he says, gesturing around the room. He gestures to a desk covered in books and sticky notes. “This is my desk.”

You grin and look around the room, taking it in. He leads you into a conference room, where five other people were sitting around the table. All at once, their eyes flick to you and Spencer and you felt like your heart was going to pound out of your chest and fly to the floor. A tall man with dark hair stood, nodding at the two of you. Everyone smiles as Spencer walked in the room, though the room’s mood was grave. 

“Hello everyone,” Spencer says, stopping a couple feet away from the table. “This is one of my students, y/n. She’s currently studying to be a profiler like us, so I invited her to help us out with this case.”

You smile at the group, waving slightly. “Hi, everybody. It’s nice to meet you despite the circumstances of our meeting.”

“I assume Spencer caught you up on the case,” the tall man with dark hair says, his voice monotone. Hotch, you were assuming. 

“Yes, Agent Hotchner, I’m all caught up.” A look of surprise flashes through Hotch’s eyes and you could feel Spencer smiling next to you. “Spencer’s mentioned his boss a couple times in class. Plus, I assumed with the way you were carrying yourself and the way you seem to hold attention in this room that you were the one in charge.”

“Don’t look so surprised, Hotch,” another man says, bald and dark skinned. “If Spencer brought her in, she’s good.” He looks at you and smiled, his eyes glancing down your body for a moment. “Derek Morgan.”

“Don’t eye her up, sweetheart,” a blonde girl says. She was tapping her fingers on the laptop in front of her, raising her eyebrows at Derek. He gave her a sheepish grin and she looks at you. “Penelope Garcia, tech analyst for the BAU.”

“God, you guys are probably giving her whiplash, let her adjust for a minute,” a woman with dark brown hair says. Shaking her head, she looks at you. “Sorry about them. I’m Emily Prentiss.” She gestures over to another blonde girl with bangs. “This is JJ.”

You take a seat at the table, Spencer to the side of you. You set the case files down in front of you and look up at the team, taking a shaky breath in.

“You looked like you wanted to say something in the car,” Spencer says, crossing his arms.

Um, yeah,” you reply, biting your lip. “Are you sure the unsub is a male?”

The team looked confused and Hotch spoke up. “Yes. Why do you suggest otherwise?”

You were silent for a moment before speaking. “Well, the first reason is the manner of the murders. They’re not messy. They’re not violent. They’re clean.” You look at the crime scene photos. “Men make messes because they don’t care who cleans up after them. Women are clean.” You glance up to find the whole team looking at you. “Um, also, these victims are all posed, like dolls in a dollhouse. They’re all sitting upright, arms by their sides, fingers spread. I feel like a man wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t care how they look.”

They were silent for a moment until Emily spoke up. 

“She has a point.”

“I also believe these men were killed from behind.” You take in a deep breath. “After looking at the coroner’s reports and pictures from the crime scene, I noticed that there were no rope marks visible on the back of the neck. Speaking of, if a man were going to strangle someone, they’d do it with their hands. Statistically, that is. With their strength, they’re more effective with their hands.” You glance at Spencer who nods as if to say _go on_. “Spencer, can I use you for a demonstration?”

He looked confused but got up. You position yourself in front of him before looking at the team.

“Okay, so I’m the unsub. In the coroner’s reports, it said that each body had blunt force trauma on the right side of the head. I approach the victim,” you look at Spencer and smile. “I then raise my right arm in front of me and quote unquote backhand the victim with something in my hands—something heavy and metal. Not hard enough to kill, but hard enough to disorient.” You mimic the motion on Spencer and he fake clutches his face. “This is specifically to disorient enough so the unsub can push the victim to the ground,” you mime pushing Spencer and he falls over, “and flip the victim onto his stomach.” Spencer flips over and you get on the ground, putting your knee softly on his back. “The unsub wants to feel power over the victim, that’s part of the reason strangulation is used. To make sure he can’t get up or fight back, she puts her knee on his back and,” you pretend to choke Spencer from behind, “chokes him until he dies, leaving no rope marks on the back of the neck.”

You stand up and help Spencer up, his hand soft in yours. “Subsequently, each victim had a daughter around the age of six or seven. I believe this unsub is a woman in her mid twenties who went through extreme childhood trauma around the age of six or seven. If I had to guess, she lost her mother due to strangulation around that age. Victimology suggests the dad was most likely the killer.”

The BAU team was silent for a moment before Derek spoke up.

“Reid, where the hell did you find this girl?”

You heart drops, not knowing if it was a compliment or not. Panicked, you looked at Reid who had the most shit-eating “I’m a genius” smile on his face. He looks at you, bumping your shoulder with his.

“He’s saying he’s impressed,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Oh, okay,” you exhale, laughing softly. You look at Garcia. “Could you do a search for me?”

Garcia nods and opens her laptop. “Hit me.”

“Can you do a search within a twenty mile radius of where the bodies were found of women who died of strangulation between two-thousand and two-thousand two?” You ask her, and she begins typing furiously on her laptop.

“Alright, I have three matches.”

“Okay, to narrow it down; let’s only look at the ones who had a daughter around the age of six or seven at the time of her death.”

After a moment, Garcia nods. “I have a Gabriella McElroy. Died in two-thousand two, left behind a daughter around age seven. Husband got charged for it and is still in prison.”

“What’s the daughter’s name?” Hotch asks.

“Sarah McElroy.”

“Let me guess,” I say, looking at Spencer. “Sarah went into the foster care system and bounced around from home to home. Probably had a history of mental illness or was institutionalized at some point around the age of eighteen.”

“That’s scary accurate,” Garcia says, raising her eyebrows. “Got committed in twenty-fifteen for depression and hysteria.”

“She most likely has schizoid personality disorder, or some other Cluster A personality disorder that makes people eccentric. It most likely happened due to trauma at such a young age.” You think for a moment. “I think she’s committing these murders as a type of revenge. This is the only way she thinks she can enact revenge on her father.”

“Is there an address, Garcia?” Hotch asks, standing up.

Garcia reads the address and action happens all at once.

“Let’s gear up,” Hotch says. “Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, you’re with me. JJ I need you to contact the local police; Garcia I need you on standby in case the unsub is not there.” He looks at you, an odd shadow of a smile on his face. “Thank you. You’re very smart. I see why Reid asked you for help.” That’s all he says as he rushes out the door.

Spencer begins walking to the door and you grab his arm. “Hey.”

The two of you now alone, Spencer turns to you, a look of pride in his eyes. “You did great. I’ve never seen anyone impress Hotch like that upon first meeting.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, a rush of happiness flying through you. It was quickly replaced by fear. “Please be careful.” You run your hand up to Spencer’s neck and he smiles, slightly leaning into your touch. “Come back to me.”

He quickly kisses the top of your head. “Stay here. We’ll be back soon, I promise.”

You watch him go and almost shit your pants when you hear a voice from the corner of the room.

“He likes you.”

You turn around to find Penelope standing in the other doorway, laptop in her hands. You hadn’t even noticed she’d been there.

“I forgot my laptop so I came back for it.” She smiles at you.

Sitting down at the conference table, you twiddle your fingers together, Garcia’s words replaying in your mind. _He likes you_.

“Spencer is very careful with who he brings around the team,” she explains, walking back over to the table. “He’s even more careful of who he’s affectionate with in public. He likes you.” 

You look up at her and bite your lip. “I didn’t know he was my professor when I met him,” you explain. “I was just a twenty-six year old talking to a guy in a bar.”

“Honey, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” she laughs, tilting her head. “You’re smart. You think things through. You’re comfortable around him and I can tell he’s comfortable around you. How long have you two known each other?”

“About a month,” you reply, the night you two met feeling like lifetimes ago. “I…I don’t know him as well as I’d like to.”

Garcia smiles softly. “When he’s ready to tell you about himself, he will. I won’t speak for him but…he’s been through a lot. Most people quit before getting to know him.”

“I want to know all of him.” The words slip out and you didn’t realize you felt that way until they did. 

It was the truth—you wanted to know Spencer. He wasn’t just a guy to you; he had become a big part of your life in such a short amount of time you felt like you’d known him for years rather than a month.

Garcia’s eyes were soft. “I won’t tell anyone what I saw. Promise.”

With that, she walks out of the room.

The two hours Spencer was gone felt more like seven. Passing the time, you pull your current leisurely reading out of your bag—The Last Wish, the first book in the Witcher series. It felt pointless to even try to distract yourself. The words swam around the page, not seeming to sink into your mind as you thought about Spencer. In the midst of reading the same paragraph seven times, your head turned as motion caught your eye. 

The team was back, all seeming unscathed. Spencer catches your eye and smiles, walking toward the conference room. Your eyes flick to the gun in the holster on his belt, knowing you probably shouldn’t have found it as hot as you did. You stand and go to the door, meeting him outside near the bullpen.

“We got her,” Spencer says, his tone noticeably lighter than it was earlier today. “She had newspaper clippings about her mom’s murder all over her house. She had a small metal pipe, no bigger than a cell phone that she used to knock out the victims. She confessed, but left with the police in a state of hysteria.”

“So I was right?” You ask, a bubble of joy rising in your chest.

“You were,” he replies, a hint of sadness flashing through his eyes. “I would kiss you…or something, but—“

“We’re in your place of work, I understand,” you reassure him, the smile he rewarded you breathtakingly beautiful.

“Let’s get you home,” he says, putting his hand on your lower back and guiding you out of the BAU.

The ride back to your dorm was quiet, and you didn’t realize how tired you were. It was only about four PM, but your body was fighting sleep the whole way back. You and Spencer were quiet as you climb the stairs to your room, stopping in the doorway.

Immediately, Spencer kisses you, clutching your face in his hands. You kiss him back, a smile on your lips as you pull away.

“You have no idea how much you impressed me today,” he says, forehead touching yours. “And the rest of the team.”

“I’m glad I could help,” you reply, looking into his eyes.

“Don’t take this praise lightly,” Spencer says. “You helped save lives today.”

You were silent for a moment before running your fingers through Spencer’s hair. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

“Yes.” The word was out of his mouth before you even finished your sentence. 

You unlock your door and pull him inside, a laugh leaving him as you did. You went to your room, changing into a pair of pajama shorts and a baggy t-shirt. You throw Spencer one of your dad’s old t-shirts and a pair of old sweatpants, which is graciously changes into.

You sit on the edge of your bed and lean back on your hands. Spencer brushes the hair out of his face as he walks over to the bed, sitting next to you. He was hesitating, needing to say something.

“Yes?” You ask. “You want to say something.”

He nods, shaking his leg. “Yeah. I think we need to talk about something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, serious talk time! I wonder what Spencer is going to tell our dear reader.  
> I enjoyed writing this chapter! I can't wait to include more of the team.


	7. Two Broken People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Spencer have a serious talk.  
> !!TW!! Mentions of death, drug addiction, self harm, light descriptions of self-harm.

As soon as the words escaped Spencer's mouth, your pulse escalates, your mouth runs dry.

Shaking your head, you look at his face, concern flashing through your eyes. “Please don’t feel pressured into telling me something you don’t actually want to tell me.” 

Spencer’s head tilts and he holds your gaze, his hand finding yours. “I trust you.”

“Penelope…she said you had been through a lot, Spence.” You sigh, biting the skin at the inside of your lip. “I…I just want to make sure you’re ready before you tell me. That you’re sure you trust me as much as you think you do.”

Saying nothing, he loosens his grip on your hand before gesturing down to his half covered arms. Lifting up the sleeves a little, he exposes the flesh just below the inside of his elbow. Lining the small space on his arm were little white scars, maybe ¼ of an inch in width. Your mind flashes to every time you’d seen Spencer—he’d always been wearing long sleeves, or sleeves long enough to cover most of his arms. 

_He was hiding his scars_ , you thought.

“I was twenty-four years old when a man named Tobias Hankel kidnapped me,” Spencer speaks matter-of-factly. “He had split personality disorder—three distinct personalities, actually. Himself, his abusive father, and someone named Raphael.”

You look up at Spencer, his face thoughtful. He didn’t look up at you. Your fingers clamp around his wrist and he looks at you, the look in his eyes unrecognizable.

“He tortured me for two days. Part of the torture was…to inject me with Dilaudid.” Spencer bites his lip, shaking his head. “It’s funny, because Tobias wasn’t evil. He actually saved my life—his other two personalities were the evil ones. I had to shoot him. I killed him.”

“Jesus Christ, Spence.” Your voice was a whisper.

“After that, I was addicted to Dilaudid for a while. I’m still addicted—just not actively using. Sometimes, I still crave it.” His eyes look far away. “After Tobias, I became very empathetic with some people we profiled—I saw it as a weakness. I still see Tobias everywhere I look. Another case we worked a year or so after Tobias’ was about another boy with split personality disorder…and I couldn’t save him either.”

“Spencer, that’s not your fault,” you assure him, using your fingers to lightly grab his chin, turning it toward you. “You can’t save everybody, Spence. You can’t blame yourself.”

Spencer chuckles, though there was no humor in it. You look down at his scars and lightly bring your finger to them, running your fingers over the white spots. He flinches and you pull away, but he stops you. He brings your fingers back to his scars, letting your fingers run over the cold skin. He shivers, like he’s unused to the touch.

“I know I shouldn’t blame myself, but I do. In some instances…I could’ve stopped it. I could’ve stopped her from dying.”

“Her?” You ask, tilting your head.

Spencer was quiet for a moment, thinking. His gaze shifts to the floor and when he spoke, he seems far away, like he was trying to go back in time.

“I started getting headaches a couple years ago. I would talk to a doctor on the phone—her name was Maeve.” _Was_ , you notice him say. “We…I loved her. Our relationship lasted ten months. She had a stalker, and she wouldn’t let me help.” Spencer’s voice was raising just a little, a hint of panic starting to trickle into his voice. “The stalker kidnapped her, and s-she killed her. She killed Maeve after I asked her to kill me instead.” His voice breaks, sadness unlike anything you’d ever seen filling Spencer’s eyes. “I would’ve died for her.” His voice had gone quiet—small. 

“Spencer…” You reach for his hand and he holds onto it tightly, like you might disappear if he let go.

“Her death…I-I think about it every day,” he says, finally looking into your eyes. “She’s…she’s one of the only people I’ve ever said ‘I love you’ to.”

Saying nothing, you release his hand and pull him into you. Your right hand goes to his hair, running your fingers through it as you hold him. He wraps his arms around your torso, squeezing you. 

“Her death scarred you,” you whisper. “I can see how that would…affect your relationships in the future.”

“I’m afraid.” Those two words escape Spencer’s mouth and you inhale deeply. “This job is so dangerous for anyone I’m close to. I’m afraid to get close. I’m afraid it’s always going to end up like Maeve.”

You push him gently off of you and bring your hands to cup his face, forcing him to look you in the eye. “I’m right here, Spence. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“You can’t plan these things,” he says gently, eyes full of sadness. 

“That’s just life, though, Spence.” You smile gently at him, wishing you could take all the hurt away from him. You bite your lip and release his face. “I want to show you something.”

You hesitate a moment, fingertips fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Spencer knits his eyebrows together, eyes flicking up to yours.

“Don’t show me anything you’re not actually ready to show me.” His words echo yours from earlier and you smile softly.

“I trust you,” you reply. 

You lay back on the bed and he adjusts himself, his knee and shin resting against your side, looking down at you. You slowly lift up your shirt, heart pounding. His eyes glance over your stomach, the confusion being replaced by softness. You saw yourself through his eyes—small, white linear scars lining the skin on your torso. You avert your gaze, though you could feel his eyes on your face.

“I…I was depressed all through high school,” you say slowly, biting your lip. “I started my sophomore year and I-I did it because I needed to feel something other than numb.” You inhale deeply again. “I stopped my senior year and thought I was better for a long time. I relapsed two years ago, for two weeks. I haven’t touched a razor ever since.” You swallow, trying to push away the rising anxiety in your chest.

You feel his fingers trace from your side to your stomach and you close your eyes, feeling his fingers run across your abdomen. His touch was gentle, barely applying any pressure.

“You are so beautiful.”

With that statement, your eyes fly open, finding his face. His gaze shifts to your face, a small smile on his face.

“I’m not saying you’re beautiful because of the scars—you’re beautiful because you went through so much and came out a stronger person,” he says, fingers resting on your stomach. 

“You did, too, Spencer, and you don’t even realize it.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking up at him. “You’re so fucking strong and you don’t even realize it.”

You can see him trying to digest the sentence you just told him, the gears shifting in his genius brain. Sitting up, you don’t hesitate before gently planting a kiss on his lips. He kisses you back, his touch tender as his hands run to your back. Pulling away, you smile, resting your forehead on his.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spencer. You can count on that.” 

The small smile on his face grows wider. “It feels so strange. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, isn’t that strange?”

“No, Spencer,” you shake your head, “that’s destiny.”

You render Spencer speechless and he looks at you, wonder in his eyes. “You amaze me, sometimes.”

Laughing, you pull him onto the bed fully, both of you lying beside each other. “Come on, I’m tired.”

Spencer wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head as he holds you. Closing your eyes, you think of the man who’s holding you; what he’s been through. He was still hurting—that much was obvious. But he trusted you to know his secrets—who he was fully. And oddly enough, you trusted him, too. You and Spencer Reid were two broken people just trying to put yourselves back together again. Somehow, you were his glue, and he was yours. 

And all you could feel was comfort and trust as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader and Spencer coming closer together?? I wonder what could go wrong.  
> It's not the longest chapter in the world so I apologize.  
> Anyway, I was super excited to write this chapter. I love vulnerable Spencer and Reader. I think they're so cute. :)


	8. Beg For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up with Spencer's arms around you. He has some urges.

The feeling of fingers running through your hair woke you the next day. Groggily, your eyes open, the view of Spencer’s chest and neck blurry as your eyes adjust. Your mind flashes to what happened last night—the talk you and Spencer had. He had spilled his heart to you and you to him. After a moment, the morning catches up with you. You groan, still sleepy. Spencer’s low chuckle rings out around you, almost like music.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” His voice was low and raspy.

“Sleepy is right,” you mumble, closing your eyes again, the warmth from his arms radiating through you. 

Turning over, you lay on your side and Spencer adjusts, his hands resting on your stomach, rubbing slowly across your abdomen. His props himself up with his right elbow, his chin resting in the crook of your neck.

“You have to wake up at some point, baby girl.” His breath tickles your ear. “It’s Thursday. I know you have class.”

“I don’t wanna get up,” you complain, turning your head slightly to look at Spencer.

He was smiling, the corners of his lips upturned, dimples ever so present. His brown eyes find yours, a mischievous glint in them as his fingers brush lightly over your hips. His soft lips plant a kiss on your jaw as his fingers slip under the waistband of your pants.

“Spencer,” you gasp, eyes flicking to his. Your thighs clamp shut despite the heat that flashes to your core.

His smile turns into a smirk. “I’ll never get used to how responsive you are.”

You resist the urge to smile, feeling his fingers run over your clothed slit. “Y-you’re just good at what you do.”

“Oh?” Spencer questions, his middle finger rubbing over your clothed clit. “And what would that be?”

“You know what it is, Spencer,” you manage to spit out, a soft groan leaving you.

Spencer’s hand moves up to your chest, his hand squeezing your tit lightly. “I want to try something.”

“What?” You ask, back arching slightly. 

He pushes you onto your back and shifts himself, resting between your legs. He plants a soft kiss on your lips, biting your bottom lip softly. Your heart accelerates, eyes opening to find his already on yours. His mouth moves to your jaw, kissing across it and down your neck. You moan softly as he peppers your neck with small hickeys, his teeth nipping at your soft skin. 

He moves his body down, his head at the hem of your shirt. Lifting up the shirt, he plants soft kisses across your abdomen. You smile down at him as his lips brush across your scars, a warm feeling running through you. The closer he got to your legs, the faster your heart beat.

Hooking his finger under the waistband of your pajama shorts, he pulls them down, revealing your black polka dot underwear. He smiles, gaze returning to your face.

“You know, I have a shirt with this exact pattern,” he muses, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Is that right?” You say, body starting to tremble the closer his face got to your core.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” he coos, his hands gripping the bottom of your thighs.

“I-it’s just been a long time since…anyone has been there,” you say, biting your lip. 

“’The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them,’” Spencer says, his fingers snaking under waistband of your panties.

“Are you quoting Hemingway to try to get me to calm down?” You ask, a small, breathless laugh leaving you.

“Yes, but also,” he pulls your panties down, revealing your core to him, “it’s so attractive that you know that’s Hemingway.”

You try to clench your legs shut out of habit, almost embarrassed, but Spencer’s hands grip your thighs, pushing them apart.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about anything with me, baby girl,” he says, kissing your inner thighs. “You’re beautiful.” He moves your legs to rest on his shoulders.

His words make you relax, and his eyes flick to yours. He runs small kisses up your thighs before you feel his tongue run up your slit, a moan escaping you as his hands grip your thighs. His tongue slowly swirls around your clit and your hands run down your body to his wavy head of hair, fingers twisting in it.

“Fuck,” you groan, bucking your hips slightly.

Spencer’s hands hold your hips down and he takes your clit in his mouth, sucking softly on it. Your eyes flutter shut and you feel his grip on your thighs tighten.

“Eyes on me, baby girl,” he demands.

Your eyes open and you look at him, his tongue running to your throbbing entrance. He smirks, his eyes full of lust and dominance.

“You’re so wet for me already,” he muses, his thumb moving to rub your clit slowly.

“Spencer!” You whine, your pussy throbbing as he teases you.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, the most annoying shit-eating grin on his face.

“P-please fuck me with your tongue,” you beg, a rush of heat running through you.

He smiles before slowly pushing his tongue inside of you, your grip tightening in his hair. He feels warm, his thumb rubbing your clit in faster circles. At this pace, he’d have you finishing in no time—one of his talents, you’d come to know.

“God, you feel so good,” you moaned, pussy clenching around his tongue as he begins to tongue fuck you. 

After a few seconds, he removes his tongue, replacing it with his middle and ring fingers. His mouth attaches back to your clit, sucking diligently as his fingers work inside of your tight pussy quickly. Your mouth hangs open as your eyes meet his.

“F-fuck, Spence,” you groan, feeling yourself on the edge of unraveling.

He begins flicking his tongue over your clit repeatedly, a high-pitched cry flying past your lips as his fingers curl inside of you. You meet his eyes and his eyes bore into yours, full of lust, trust, and passion.

It almost felt like magic how quickly Spencer made you unravel before him. You cry out as you cum, your pussy throbbing erratically around his fingers. His left hand holds down your hips, legs shaking as white spots dance in your vision. 

After a moment, Spencer’s fingers leave your core. He plants kisses up your abdomen before lowering your shirt, his lips traveling to your neck and jaw before landing on your lips. You kiss him back, grinning as you sit up. Pulling away, you grip his right wrist, bringing his fingers to your mouth.

You look into his brown eyes as you take his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, Spencer’s own slightly agape as you do. His eyes stay glued to your mouth, your tongue swirling around his fingers, sucking your own juices off his fingers.

“Jesus,” he whispers, voice ragged.

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, you grin. “This might be a good time to mention that I have a hand fetish.”

“Hands?” Spencer asks, his fingers tracing your lower lip.

“I have a thing for big hands and yours…” you trail off, eyes fixating on his hands, “are just so attractive.”

Spencer laughs, the sound turning from happiness to surprise when you flip him on his back. You straddle him, feeling his hard, clothed length pressing into your bare core. You look him in his eyes, grinning as you grab his left hand. Your tongue flicks out, swirling around his first two fingers slowly, a groan escaping him. Taking his fingers in your mouth, you push them to the back of your throat, gagging when they hit. You feel his cock twitch underneath you, another raspy moan leaving him. Taking his fingers out of your mouth, you smirk.

“Look who’s in control now,” you say, grinding your hips slowly.

“It’s cute that you think you’re still in control,” Spencer muses, hands moving to grip your hips.

“Am I not?” You ask, moving your body down, your face near his crotch. His length tents the sweatpants and you palm his erection, seeing Spencer hold back a moan.

You smirk, holding his gaze as you pull the sweatpants down, exposing Spencer’s boxers. Your finger runs along his clothed length slowly.

“The real question is: should I tease you…” you whisper, your face innocent, “or should I give you what you want?”

“Tease me and you’re in for it later, baby girl,” he warns, his voice breathless.

“Are you gonna punish me?” You innocently ask, pulling down his boxers, his large cock hitting his stomach. “Spank me? Refuse to let me cum?”

“Something like that,” Spencer says, his fingers moving to the back of your head. “You know, sixty percent of women say they fantasize about being spanked or whipped.”

“Is that right?” You respond. Your tongue slowly runs up the shaft of his cock and he groans softly. “Well, if we’re talking statistics, most men like being teased.”

The moan that leaves Spencer’s mouth is heavenly as you run it around the head of his cock. “What if I’m not that man?”

You grin, hand gripping the shaft of his cock. “Mmm, maybe I’ll just tease you until you beg for it, then.”

Spencer chuckles, the sound breathless. “And what if I never beg for it?”

You release his shaft, his grip tightening on your hair. “Then maybe you just don’t want the satisfaction enough.”

“N-no,” Spencer stutters, his hips buckling slightly. “P-please.”

“Please, what?” You ask, a smug look on your face as you grip his balls.

“F-fuck, please suck my cock,” Spencer begs, his eyes pleading as his cock twitches.

“Good boy,” you whisper, mouth enveloping his cock after the words slip out of your mouth.

His long moans are like music, ringing out around you as you take his cock deep into the back of your throat. His fingers tighten in your hair as you gag softly. You begin moving up and down his length, taking him deeper every time, his breathing becoming ragged. Your mind flashes back to the last time his length was in your mouth—Spencer in control, tears and spit running down your face. This was different. You were in control, now.

You push his cock as far as it can go, your nose brushing his abdomen as you gag lightly on his cock. He groans, keeping you held down as his cock twitches in your mouth.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers out, his breathing getting deeper as you move up and down his cock.

Your eyes flick to his and you push his length as deep as it can go, Spencer’s body shaking as thick spurts of cum shoot down your throat. He yells out a string of obscenities as he finishes, his grip tight in your hair. After swallowing, you bring his cock out of your mouth, moving your body to lay on his.

Your lips attach to his jaw and move to his lips, kissing him passionately. His hands stay in your hair, a soft moan leaving him as he kisses you. Pulling away, you grin.

“See how easy it was to make you beg,” you say, giggling. 

He shakes his head, laughing. “I only let you be somewhat dominant because I’m sleepy.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s it, Dr. Reid.” You grin and stand up, stretching your arms.

You begin to get ready for your classes, changing into a pair of light denim mom jeans and an old Star Wars t-shirt tucked into them. Your hair is a mess after having Spencer’s fingers tangled in it, so you throw it up into a ponytail. You grab Spencer’s gray sweater he still hasn’t taken back from you and throw it over your shirt, warmth radiating through you. Spencer tilts his head, smiling.

“I still think that sweater looks amazing on you,” he says, sitting up in bed.

“Good, ‘cause you’re never getting it back,” you tease, grabbing your bag.

“Leaving me?” He asks, standing up and wrapping his arms around your torso.

“I have class, Dr. Reid,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He kisses your cheek before pulling back to look at you. “Let me take you on a date.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A date?”

Spencer nods, sighing. “A real date. Like dinner.”

“Dinner would be nice,” you say, a smile on your face. 

“Tonight?” You ask, gently running your fingers through his hair.

His eyes close at your touch and he nods. “Preferably.”

“Then tonight it is,” you say, standing on your tip toes to kiss his forehead.

He grins, placing a light kiss on your lips. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Have fun in class.”

You smile at him before detangling yourself from his grip, leaving him alone in your place as you walk to class. The entire time, your thoughts were racing. 

Tonight, you were going on a date with Spencer Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some smut after a few chapters!  
> I hope y'all like this chapter. I'm excited to write how reader and Spencer's relationship will develop from here. They trust each other! Yay!  
> I love any feedback y'all can leave me :)


	9. Indian Food and Pianos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer takes you on a first date!!

You didn’t dress up much—you didn’t have very many fancy clothes. Between growing up somewhat poor and also not going to many fancy events under your parents’ roof, you never really felt the need for them. 

Tonight, you wanted to look nice. However, your brain betrays you and tells you that you never look nice, just a symptom of the lack of serotonin and dopamine in your brain. 

Which is why you were sitting on your couch at 6:55 feeling like an absolute idiot. You had decided on a navy blue dress, the neckline sweetheart, ending at just above your knees. You wore a pair of nude flats—you didn’t want to stumble through your first official date with Spencer. For the first time in a while, you wore your old music note necklace, a gift from your grandmother. You had no idea what Spencer had planned, which is why part of you felt so stupid. What if you were overdressed? Or way underdressed? You bit the inside of your cheek, your body jolting as a sharp knock sounded. Your pulse picks up as you walk over to the door, running a hand through your hair before opening the door. 

Spencer was wearing a light blue button up, a navy blazer buttoned up over it. A pair of navy dress pants matched the blazer, the look topped off by a pair of white Converse. You chuckle as you took in his appearance.

“I like the kicks,” you say, motioning to his shoes.

He lifts up his pants, showing you his mismatching socks. His left sock was bright pink with dinosaurs; his right a lime green with pineapples. “My socks are the real killer though.”

“Oh my god, those are amazing,” you reply, a large grin spreading over your face.

“You look beautiful,” he says, a small blush spreading over his cheeks.

You close the door to your apartment, standing in the hall with Spencer. “So, where are you taking me?”

“I’m taking you to one of my favorite Indian restaurants near the arts center,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You loop your arm through his and begin walking, pulling him with you. A small laugh leaves him and he falls in step with you. He walks you to his car, opening the door for you.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you quip, climbing inside.

He rolls his eyes and shuts your door, walking around to his side. He climbs in and starts the car, flipping the radio to some station that plays old hits. You grin as you hear the guitar chords for the beginning of Rhiannon. 

“Do you know this song?” Spencer asks, eyes flicking to you quickly.

“You don’t?” You ask, genuinely surprised.

“I don’t listen to music much,” he replies.

You begin singing along with Stevie, quietly. You don’t sing much in front of people—it felt too embarrassing. A smile stretches across Spencer’s face, shaking his head slightly.

“You sing, too?” He asks, voice a little incredulous.

“I’m going to pretend like that’s not offensive,” you joke, returning to the song.

You enjoy the song, singing along while Spencer side eyes you from his seat. He bobs his head along, seeming to enjoy the music.

“Fleetwood Mac is classic,” you tell him, leaning your head back against the headrest.

“Maybe I’ll look them up,” he replies, chuckling.

“I have this album on vinyl.”

“People still listen to vinyl?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Duh,” I say, grinning.

The rest of your car ride was filled with music, and not much speaking. Maybe Spencer was just as nervous as you were. You glance over at him. He was clutching the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles slightly white. His left leg was shaking slightly, his cheeks a slight pink. He _is_ nervous.

“Are you profiling me right now?” He asks.

“Maybe,” you reply, grinning.

“And what do you see?”

“That you’re just as nervous as me,” you say matter-of-factly.

He says nothing, pulling into a parking spot. He unbuckles his seatbelt, turning his body to you. Tilting his head, he reaches over to grab your hand.

“Yes, I am nervous,” he states.

“It’s just me, Spence,” you reply, running your thumb over his.

“That’s why I’m nervous,” he says, averting his gaze.

You grin and remove your hand from his, opening your door. You close it, Spencer walking around the car to get to you, his hand immediately slipping into yours. The two of you walk in silence—not an awkward silence, a comforting silence. The two of you didn’t need to talk; each other’s presence was enough. You two walk passed the arts center to get to the restaurant, and he opens the door for you. Grinning, you walk inside, being greeted by the smells of curry.

Spencer gets you two a table and you sit across from him. You graze over the menu, mouth practically watering as you do. The waitress walks over, immediately eyeing Spencer up as she asks for drinks.

“I’ll do water and a bottle of your best tasting Sauvignon Blanc, please,” he says to her, glancing over at me, “with two glasses, of course.”

You smile at him and look at her, though she barely acknowledges your existence. “I’ll do water, please.”

She nods and you look at Spencer, the smile still on your face. 

“What?” He asks, fingers tapping on the table.

“She definitely wants to give you more than a bottle of wine,” you joke, resting your right hand on your cheek. 

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “It’s too bad I’m not interested in her.”

“Whatever,” you say, your tone light. You two were silent for a moment and you tilt your head. “What are you thinking about?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “Did you know that India is called the land of spices because seventy percent of the world’s spices come from there?” 

“I did not know that,” you reply, crossing your ankles.

“Pepper is the most important spice because it generically goes well with anything you cook it with,” he continues, his fingers tapping faster.

“Mhm,” you nod, showing you were listening.

“Each part of India uses a different blend of spices, so they each have their own individual taste.”

“You’re doing what I do when I’m nervous,” you state, reaching your left hand out to grab his right, his finger tapping ceasing. “You’re stating random facts.”

Spencer exhales, his hand gripping yours. “Sorry, I’m just—“

“Nervous,” you say, grinning. “Don’t apologize, Spence. I actually could listen to you talk about random shit all the time.”

He cheeks flush a dark pink as the waitress comes back over, setting down the waters and glasses for the wine, the wine in its own little ice bucket.

“Are we ready to order?” She asks, looking at Spencer.

“What would you like?” He asks you, her eyes flicking from your hands to you.

You smile at her, unfazed. “I’ll have the chicken korma, please.”

She nods, not uttering a word before turning to Spencer. 

“I’ll actually have the same,” he says, eyes never leaving you. “I’ve never tried korma, but I’m sure it’s great.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your fingers gently.

The waitress spits out that the food will be out soon before walking away and you shake your head at Spencer. He pours the wine in both glasses before setting it back down and grabbing your hand again.

“That poor girl, you broke her heart,” you giggle.

Spencer chuckles. “I didn’t mean to.”

“So innocent, Dr. Reid,” you say, a mischievous glint flashing through your eyes. 

His grip on your hand tightens, the look in your eyes matching your own. “You know I’m anything but innocent, baby girl.”

You laugh. “Oh, I know, Dr. Reid.”

The two of you idly chit chat until the food comes out. The curry smelled delicious, being served with a couple pieces of naan bread. You dig in, eyes going wide as you look at Spencer. 

“This is fucking amazing,” you say through mouthfuls of curry.

“Told you,” he replies, taking a bite of his own.

You eat in silence, taking small sips of your wine as you do. After a very short period of time, both of your plates are clean, the wine bottle almost empty. He smiles at you, pushing his plate away from him.

“I’m taking your clean plate as a sign that you liked it,” he jokes, folding his arms in front of him.

“I did, did you?”

He nods, a chuckle resonating around you. The waitress comes back with the check and Spencer reaches for it. 

“Let’s at least split it, Spence,” you tell him, going to reach for your wallet.

Spencer clicks his tongue, holding his pointer finger up. “Ah ah ah, no, this is a date. I’m paying, end of story.”

You pout. “Fine.”

“Hey, no pouting,” he says, pushing his debit card into the little slot and standing the check up. 

Your pout turns into a smile. “As you command, Dr. Reid.”

He laughs as the waitress collects the check, bringing it back shortly. Spencer signs and looks at you.

“Come on,” he says, standing up and offering you his hand.

You stand and lace your fingers through his, walking toward the door. Spencer pushes the door open for you and you walk through it, almost colliding entirely with Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry!” She says, pushing her glasses up her nose. She realizes it’s you and her eyes widen, flicking to Spencer. 

“Reid?” Derek says, his eyes immediately flicking down to you and Spencer’s hands.

Surprisingly, Spencer doesn’t let go, keeping his fingers laced through yours. You can tell he’s uncomfortable, shifting his weight. “Hey, Morgan. Garcia.”

“Oh my, are you guys on a date?” Penelope asks, excitement filling her voice. She groans, putting her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, that just slipped out.”

You were silent, looking up at Spencer with a frantic and helpless look in your eye. Spencer gives Penelope a soft smile before looking at Derek.

“Yeah, uh, yeah we are. Our first,” he says, his grip tightening on your hand.

“You’re the girl who helped us with the case,” Derek recognizes. “The smart one. Even impressed Hotch.”

“I am, yes,” you say, giving him a small grin. 

Derek goes to say something else but Penelope interrupts him, smiling. “We’ll let you two go, enjoy the rest of your date.” She grabs Derek’s arm and pulls him inside, his head turning to look at the two of you as they disappear into the restaurant. 

“Well…” you say, looking up at Spencer. “I guess they found out.”

Spencer smiles softly, pulling your hand, beginning the walk back to the car. “They found out. I’m not worried.”

“Why?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Because I know I want to be with you.” He says the sentence almost like it’s nothing.

A warm feeling blooms in your chest and you smile. “Oh. Okay.”

He knows he caught you off guard and he chuckles. “I trust my team.”

You smile and bump his arm with yours, passing the arts center. A piano outside catches your eye and your smile widens. You forgot they keep a piano outside—a strange concept, but people tend to play it all the time. Shaking his grip from yours, you jog over to the piano, sitting down.

“What are you doing?” He calls, a small laugh leaving him.

You run your fingers over the keys, pressing on a couple of them. Spencer makes his way over to you, eventually sitting next to you at the piano. 

“You play piano?” He asks, his eyes fixated on your fingers.

“I do,” you say, grinning. “Do you?”

“A little as a hobby,” he says, playing a couple notes. “We had a case with an autistic kid who was brilliant at playing. He inspired me to learn.”

You smile at him, your fingers resting on the keys. “I had lessons growing up. I quit playing a couple years ago, but I still remember some stuff.”

“It’s just math, really,” he says, looking at you.

“God, I hate you,” you joke, shaking your head. “Curse you and your eidetic memory.”

He laughs, his smile widening. “I can’t help it.”

You don’t respond, but instead start to play one of your favorite songs, Warm Blood by flor. The song was sweet and simple—it was about the dynamic of warm, unconditional care for someone else. You didn’t sing, just played.

You can feel Spencer’s gaze on your face before his eyes travel to your hands, watching you play. After a minute, you stop, looking over at him. 

“You’re actually really good,” he praises, his finger pressing down on a couple of keys.

You watch his hands, noticing how they mirror yours. His fingers stretch across the keys, playing a couple of chords, your gaze locked on them.

“Do you like watching my hands?” He asks, your eyes flicking back up to his.

Your fingers fiddle with the piano absentmindedly. “I told you...I have a hand fetish. Or did you forget, Dr Reid?”

He raises his eyebrows, a small smirk on his face. “I don’t forget anything. Are they really that distracting?”

You shrug. “Yeah. Most of the time if I’m talking to someone I’m interested in, I focus a lot on their hands.”

“Do you like imagining what they’d do to you?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Why do you ask?” You shoot back, answering his question with your own.

He grins, moving his hands to yours, his fingers grazing over the backs of them. “You do.”

Your face gets hot and you give a small chuckle. “With your fingers? Yes.”

You grab his left hand with both of your hands, fingers twiddling with his. His eyes look into yours and you smile, his right hand still fiddling with the piano keys.

“I also definitely like looking at people’s lips,” you continue, looking down at his fingers entwined with yours. 

“That I understand,” Spencer says.

You look up and focus on his mouth. “Yeah, if someone had nice lips, I just focus on them.”

Spencer’s lips turned into a smile. “Are you imagining where I’m going to put my lips on you later?”

Your eyes flick to his. “I am now, Dr. Reid.”

His grin widens and he laces his fingers in yours. “Come on, let’s go back to my place.”

The two of you stand, leaving the piano behind as you walk back to his car. The drive back to Spencer’s place is quiet, his right hand holding your left as he drives. The radio is soft, the sun setting behind the horizon. Spencer’s thumb rubs your hand, the gesture comforting. He parks the car in front of his apartment building and the two of you walk hand in hand to his apartment, Spencer unlocking the door quickly. He flicks on the lights and you shut the door, kicking off your shoes.

“Tonight was fun,” you say to him, walking over to where he’s setting down his keys.

He wraps his arms around your waist. “You really had a good time?”

“Spencer, I was with you. How could I not have a good time?” Your arms go around his neck, fingers twiddling with his hair.

His smile is almost magical, reflecting in his eyes as he leans down to kiss you. You kiss him back, feeling him push you back into his bedroom. You walk backward until your legs hit his bed, knees buckling as you fall back into a sitting position at the edge of his bed. Spencer doesn’t even break the kiss, wiggling the two of you up fully onto the bed, his body resting lightly on yours. 

Spencer pulls back, his big eyes searching yours. He was asking a question—and you knew what question. His eyes travel down to your lips and back up again, his right hand running down your cheek.

“I-I want to,” you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, thumb grazing your cheek.

And you were sure—you wanted to have sex with Spencer. Not just because he took you out, not just because he’s nice. You wanted to sleep with Spencer because he _understood_ you. You didn’t have to explain yourself to him, nor he you. You trusted him and you wanted him to fully see you.

It was time to let the wall fall. It was time for you both to lose control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! A cliffhanger!  
> Reader and Spencer are finally going to sleep together and I'm here for it.  
> Also Derek will be having an interesting conversation with Spencer in the next chapter...watch out for it.


	10. You Amaze Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally decide to have sex with Spencer Reid.

“Yes,” you whisper, reaching your hand up to cup his cheek. 

Spencer gives a small smile before leaning down to kiss you, the kiss soft. You wrap your legs around his torso, your dress riding up your thighs, while simultaneously unbuttoning his shirt. As you kiss, he smiles, biting your bottom lip softly. Breaking the shirt apart, you push it down his shoulders and he tosses it to the ground. You exhale sharply as your fingers run down Spencer’s chest and lightly sculpted abdomen, a soft groan coming from him. You grin up at him, sticking your tongue out between your teeth.

He leans down again, his lips crashing into yours. As the kiss became more heated, Spencer wraps his arms around you, turning over so you’re sitting in his lap, legs on either side of him, his posture upright. You twist your fingers in his hair, his hands moving to the top of the zipper on your dress, pulling it down slowly. You break the kiss, shimmying off his lap so you could take your dress off.

You hadn’t been naked in front of him before—and you were nervous. Granted, you were still wearing your bra and panties, but it was close enough. He hadn’t seen your body in full, and a small wave of panic washes over you. You kick your shoes off, wanting to get those out of the way. Biting inside of your cheek, you fix your eyes on the bed as you drop your dress, the fabric falling to Spencer’s carpet. For a moment, you stiffened, arms crossed over your abdomen.

“Hey.” Spencer’s voice is soft and you look up at him. He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes washing over your body. “Come here.”

It wasn’t an order, but you obey all the same. You shuffle toward him, his hands immediately going to your arms. He runs his fingers to your wrists, wrapping around them softly before moving them to fall at your sides. Moving his hands to your sides, he runs them up and down, eventually running across your stomach.

His eyes flick to yours, soft and kind. “You don’t need to hide from me.”

You nod slightly, still biting the inside of your cheek. Spencer stands, kicking off his Converse and socks, unbuckling his pants. He pushes them down, leaving him in his blue boxers. Smiling softly, he pulls you to him, hands cupping your face.

“Now we’re even,” he says, voice playful. 

You laugh softly. “Yes, we are.”

He moves his hands to your hair, gripping it softly as he pulls you into a kiss. His body was flush against yours, his clothed, hard length pressing against you. The two of you move back to the bed, Spencer lying on top of you again. His lips move to your neck, nipping at the soft flesh, leaving marks. His left hand runs down your side, his right arm keeping his full weight off you. You moan softly as he bites and sucks on your skin, your fingers tangling in his hair. 

His mouth moves down your neck to your collarbones and to the top of your tits. His eyes flick up to you as his hands snake around to your back, and you arch it slightly so he can unclasp your bra. After a split second, the tension eases and he pulls your bra off of you, his mouth immediately enclosing around your left nipple. Your grip in his hair tightens as your back arches, another moan flying past your lips. His tongue swirls around the hard bud, his left hand moving to pinch the other one softly. 

“Fuck,” you groan, never breaking eye contact with him.

He moves his mouth to the other nipple, his teeth grazing it softly and you bite your lip, your wet pussy clenching around nothing as he teases you. He releases your nipple, a small smirk on his face as he shifts his weight, his right hand moving down your stomach to the waistband of your panties.

His lips move to your stomach, kissing gently over the scars that lie there. Your hips buck slightly, biting your lip harder as he moves his body down. He moves you to the edge of the bed, resting on his knees as he spreads your legs. His eyes rest on your clothed pussy, nails digging into your thighs slightly. 

“You’re so wet already,” he muses, eyes flicking to yours. “And I’ve barely even touched you.”

“What can I say, Dr. Reid,” you whisper, stifling a moan as he runs a finger up your clothed slit, “you’re just that good.”

He grins as he hooks his pointer fingers through the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to reveal your hot, wet core to him. He lowers his head, nipping up your thighs, a moan escaping you. He was so close, yet so far. 

“Please,” you whimper, your fingers going to twist in his hair.

“Please what?” He teases, his finger running up your bare slit, barely touching.

You inhale sharply, biting the inside of your cheek. “Please stop teasing me.”

He gives a low chuckle as his eyes flick to meet yours, his tongue running up your slit slowly, taking your clit into his mouth. A long moan leaves you, your grip tightening in his hair as he flicks your clit with his tongue. Your back arches slightly, head leaning back a bit.

“Fuck, Spence…” you moan out, lifting your head back up to look at him.

His eyes never leave yours as he lifts his middle finger to your wet entrance, pushing it in slightly, teasing you. You let out a little whine, eyes pleading, wanting something to fill you up. Releasing your clit from his mouth, his mouth slightly agape, he pushes his middle finger into you, your pussy clenching around him. A loud moan leaves you, biting your lip to stay quiet.

“You’re so fucking responsive,” he whispers, thrusting his finger in and out of you slowly, his eyes grazing down your body. 

“Y-you’re good at that,” you stutter, Spencer drawing another moan out of you as he curls his finger inside of you.

He smirks, adding his ring finger. “Just remember, when you cum, eyes on me.” His mouth closes around your clit again, sucking harder than before.

You nod. “Y-yes, Dr. Reid.”

You will never understand how it takes Spencer no time at all to make you cum—but you were already on the verge. You grip tightens in his hair, pulling slightly, a moan from Spencer vibrating your clit, sending you closer to the edge. He begins pumping his curled fingers in and out of you faster, hitting your g-spot every time. Your back arches, breathing getting heavier as he pushes you over the edge.

Spencer meets your eyes as you finish, his left hand gripping your thigh as it shakes slightly. Your pussy throbs erratically around his fingers, your clit becoming sensitive to his mouth. You try to pull your hips away, but Spencer’s hand moves to your hips, keeping you in place as he slowly thrusts his fingers in and out, his tongue gently running around your clit. 

“S-Spence...” you moan out, panting as you come down from your orgasm.

He grins, planting a kiss on your sensitive clit before removing his fingers, kissing up your body to your mouth. You kiss him back, breaking the kiss to grab his right hand. Looking at him, you grin before taking his fingers in your mouth, tongue swirling around them as you had done earlier in the day. His eyes search yours, full of trust and amazement. You remove his fingers from your mouth, leaning up to kiss him again.

The two of you back up on the bed and you flip over, face already resting near Spencer’s crotch. You run your finger up his clothed erection, emitting a small moan from Spencer. Grinning, you pull his boxers down, his hard length springing free. You wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft, running your tongue up the underside of it. His hands go to your hair, gently gathering it so it was all out of your face, his grip still tight. Meeting his eyes, you take the head of his cock in your mouth, sucking slightly, your tongue brushing the underside of it. His hips jerk slightly and you take it out of your mouth, laughing slightly.

“And you say I’m the responsive one,” you joke, pumping his length in your hand slowly.

“S-shut up,” he says, smiling.

You roll your eyes, a playful look in them as you lower your mouth on his cock. You take him in slowly, never breaking eye contact. The moan that leaves Spencer’s mouth is like music to your ears, and you begin to slowly bob your head up and down his length. Each time you come down, you take more of him inside of your mouth, his grip seeming to tighten in your hair each time.

You release his cock from your mouth for a moment, taking in a breath. “D-do you want me to make you cum?” Spencer looks confused and you give a slightly embarrassed laugh. “If I make you cum, can you still…y’know?”

Spencer gives a small laugh. “I have more stamina than you think.”

“Good,” you simply say, Spencer raising his eyebrows before you take him in your mouth again.

You continue, taking his length in deeper each time, eventually taking almost the whole thing in, gagging on it slightly. Each time you descend, a string of moans leave Spencer, and you try to memorize how each and every one of them sound. Taking a deep breath, you take Spencer in deep, your nose almost pressing against his stomach, a loud groan leaving him.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, his cock twitching in your mouth.

Your eyes meet his and you come back up, gasping. “If you cum, eyes on me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says teasingly.

You grin before beginning to deep throat him again, repeatedly this time, with no breaks. You eventually get a rhythm down, going a bit faster than you normally would. After a few minutes, Spencer’s grip in your hair tightens, your eyes meeting his again as you take him deep again and again.

“F-fuck, I’m going to cum,” he moans out, his eyes clouding over as his cock throbs in your mouth.

You take him as deep as you can, moaning slightly, the vibrations running up his cock. He lets out a string of moans, his cum shooting down your throat. His grip never lets up on your hair, his cock throbbing as he rides out his orgasm. After a moment, his grip lets up a bit, and you release his cock, panting softly as you catch your breath. His breathing is heavy as well, using his hand to bring you to his lips.

He kisses you passionately, and you straddle him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands run down your back softly, the touch almost ticklish. You break the kiss, laughing softly as your back arches from his touch.

“That tickles,” you say, kissing his nose.

“Sorry,” he replies, his hands finding their resting place on your ass, giving it a squeeze.

“I guess I can forgive you this one time,” you tease, kissing him again.

His laugh is stifled by your lips, the make out getting more intense. Your lips travel to his neck, kissing it softly before biting down on the skin. Spencer gasps, and you smirk as you suck, leaving a couple dark hickeys on his neck. You can feel Spencer’s cock against your ass, hard again despite what had just happened. You groan against him and Spencer flips the two of you over.

He sits on his knees, reaching over to his bedside table, fishing through it. After a moment, he sighs.

“I know it’s in here somewhere…” he mutters, hands searching. “Aha!”

He holds up a condom and you laugh. “Do you have exactly one condom?”

Spencer blushes, ripping it open. “Maybe.”

You shake your head, grinning as you watch him put it on, body shaking. You were a little nervous—you hadn’t had sex in a while. Spencer senses this, and he leans down, capturing your lips with his.

“It’s just me, baby girl,” he whispers, eyes looking into yours

“That’s why I’m nervous,” you say, the conversation echoing the words spoken on your date earlier.

He grins, kissing you again before lining his cock up with the wet entrance to your pussy. He pushes in slowly, a moan leaving you, his forehead resting on yours, his mouth slightly open. He stretches you out, bottoming out in you. Your hands go to the sides of his face, cupping it slightly. Your pussy clenches around him and he groans.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and I haven’t even started moving yet,” he whispers, his right hand moving to the side of your face.

“Please fuck me, Spencer,” you whisper to him, your voice almost pleading. 

He nods slightly, pulling out of you almost completely before pushing back in, his pace slow. The two of you moan together, bringing his lips back down to yours after a moment. Your legs wrap around his waist, giving him a better angle. His lips are almost urgent on yours, and after a few moments, you could tell he wanted to go faster.

Breaking the kiss, you run your hands to his back, nails digging in slightly. “You can go faster if you want, Spence.”

He groans as he picks up speed, and you run your nails down his back, causing another groan to leave him. His eyes met yours and you let out a moan as he filled you repeatedly, your breath coming in small pants. His lips travelled to your neck as he began to thrust faster, angling himself so he can hit your sweet spot every time. His lips attach to your neck, leaving small kisses over the hickeys he left earlier. 

Spencer’s cock thrusting inside of you was heaven—it felt so good, unlike anything you had ever felt in your life. You let out a high-pitched moan as he hit your g-spot, sending you closer to your second orgasm. You use one hand to lift his face back up to yours, biting his bottom lip.

“Fuck me, Dr. Reid,” you request, a dangerous glint flashing in his eye—one you hadn’t seen in a while. 

He obliges, beginning to fuck you harder and deeper, but not enough to hurt you. His right hand goes to rest around your throat, not applying much pressure; just enough to know that he was in control. You moan out, your pussy throbbing around his cock, edging you closer and closer to finishing again.

“Do you want to cum again?” He asks, his breathing erratic. “You’ve been such a good girl.”

You whimper softly at his praise, his words only bringing you closer. “P-please.”

“Please what?” He asks, his hand leaving your throat, travelling to your clit. He rubs it slightly, and you can feel the orgasm bubbling inside of you.

“Please let me cum!” You cry out, your pulse quickening, your breathing heavy.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he whispers, eyes never leaving yours.

You feel like you’re screaming as you cum on Spencer’s cock, your body shaking slightly, his fingers still brushing your clit slightly. Stars seem to dance in your vision as you finish, your pussy clenching tightly around Spencer’s cock. He falters for a moment, groaning as he feels you clench around him.

“Good girl,” he says, voice strained. You can tell he’s close and you wrap your legs tighter around him, letting him go deeper.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” You ask, eyes searching his.

Your statement made his eyes practically roll back into his head and you smirk. Spencer might seem dominant—but when it came to cumming, you knew you were in control of that. He lets his full body weight lay on you, your hands going behind him, nails digging into his back. He rests his head in the crook of your neck, groaning against it. His hands go to your hair, gripping it.

“Cum for me, Spencer,” you moan out.

Spencer’s thrusts become uneven, thrusting a few more times before moaning into your neck. You feel him bite your shoulder softly, a few curse words slipping out of his mouth as he finishes. You pant, trying to catch your breath as you feel Spencer’s cock throb inside of you. After a moment, he lifts himself up, taking some of the weight off of you.

Spencer’s lips find yours, kissing you softly, sweetly. His right hand cups your face, thumb brushing across your cheek. He pulls away, looking at you, his brown eyes warm. He slowly pulls out of you and you let out a little whimper at the loss of his cock inside of you. He chuckles, slipping the condom off and standing up, going to his bathroom to throw it away.

You sit up in his bed, watching him come back. His smile is soft, and he rifles through his dresser for a moment before coming back over to you. He sets the clothes on the bed and pulls you up. He dresses you gently, letting you wear one of his old sweaters and a pair of his sweatpants. He puts on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats himself, disappearing through his door for a moment.

He comes back with a glass of water, handing it to you.

“I thought you might be thirsty,” he says, a blush forming over him.

“Thanks,” you say, taking a sip. “Spencer…”

“Was that okay?” He asks, a twinge of nervousness lacing his voice.

You walk over to his nightstand, setting the glass down before walking back over to him. “Spencer, you were perfect. It was amazing.”

He grins, the smile lighting up his face. “Really?”

“You are amazing,” you say, giving him a soft kiss. “You absolutely amaze me.”

“You amaze me—and trust me, that’s not something that’s easily done.”

You scoff at his words before grabbing his hand, pulling him onto his bed. He giggles, pushing himself under the covers. You join him, letting his arms wrap around you, his lips at the back of your head. He kisses your head gently before squeezing you tighter, and you smile.

You had sex with Spencer Reid. It was almost…magical, the way you felt during and after it. You and Spencer’s breathing steadied, and he nuzzled closer to you. You realize that Spencer wasn’t used to this—cuddling. You figured that most of the time, after he comes home, he was alone. No one lived with him. He came home to an empty apartment. 

You shift around, letting your head rest on Spencer’s chest. He pulls you closer to him, his chin on the top of your head. You breathe him in, letting his scent wash over you.

“Good night, Spence,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

You feel him plant another kiss on your head. “Good night. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

You laugh before going silent, letting the steady beat of Spencer’s heart lull you to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a whole long chapter full of smut and uhhh, definite fluff. I wanted this to be sweet--not exactly Spencer going full dom or sub. I wanted their first time to be a little magical. There will definitely be more dom!Spencer later on, thought, don't you worry.  
> I hope y'all liked this chapter!


	11. Inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer and Derek have a talk, and he gets whisked away on a case.

Spencer’s POV

To say it felt like the days at the BAU were going slower and slower each day was an understatement. Spencer loved his job—he was incredibly good at it, and the team was his family. But lately, he couldn’t seem to wait to be around _her_ again. She was almost like a drug, which was a dangerous concept for Spencer.

Spencer leans back in his chair at his desk, fingers tapping on the table, a stack of tests he was grading in front of him. His class had taken the exam the day before, and he had promised grades by next class. Surprisingly, most of the class had done pretty well so far.

“You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

Spencer looks up at Emily, eyebrows raised. “I’m just grading these exams.”

“How’s teaching going, by the way?” She asks, a stack of files in front of her on her desk.

Spencer smiles. “It’s actually going pretty well. I actually really like teaching this subject. Granted, most people like talking about what they’re good at.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” Emily says, flipping open a file. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you as happy as you are.”

Spencer’s eyes flick to Derek at his desk. Hearing Emily’s words, he looks up at Spencer, a knowing look on his face. Spencer knew Derek wanted to talk to him after catching him on a date with y/n the other night. Setting his red pen down, Spencer stands, going into the kitchen area to get some coffee. He grabs a cup, pouring the dark liquid.

“Are you gonna tell me about the other night?” 

Setting the coffee pot back down, Spencer adds sugar to his coffee before turning around to face Derek. “I went on a date.”

“With y/n.” Derek leans against the counter, arms crossed. 

Spencer meets Derek’s eyes. “Yes.”

“You’re dating one of your students?” Derek asks, a hint of disapproval lacing his voice.

“She wasn’t one of my students when I met her, Morgan,” Spencer rebuttals, setting his coffee down. “She was just an interesting girl in a bar.”

Derek was quiet for a moment. “You continued it even after you knew, though.”

Spencer scoffs, crossing his arms. “So? You have no right to talk about our relationship like you understand it. Or understand us.”

Derek tilts his head. “I do understand you, Reid. We’ve been friends for, what, six years? I know what you’ve been through.” Derek takes a couple of steps toward Spencer. “Which is why I know how hard it is for you to get close to someone.”

Spencer was quiet. “She…she understands me. I don’t have to explain myself to her. She understands the job, what I’ve been through…I told her about Tobias. And Maeve.”

“You told her about Maeve?” Derek’s voice was soft.

Spencer nods. “I trust her, Morgan. I…I know I can’t do anything to bring Maeve back. She’s gone. As much as I’d like to believe there was something I could have done to stop what happened—“

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Derek reassures him, putting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. 

“Do you know after she died…I went home to an empty apartment. I was alone. I grieved alone. I would come here and work and go home and…be alone.” Spencer’s voice was a whisper. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t let myself get close to anyone like that again, and then…” Spencer let out a breathless laugh. “She had to come along and mess it up.”

“You know Maeve would want you to be happy, right?” Derek says, tilting his head. “I didn’t know her like you did, Reid, but anyone who loved you like she loved you wouldn’t want you stay alone for the rest of your life.”

Spencer met Derek’s eyes, his lips tilting up at the corners. “I know. Y/n makes me happy. I…I’m still a little wary about letting her into my life, into all of this,” he gestures around to the BAU office. “But, she wants to do this, too. She…is incredible. She’s so smart, sometimes she impresses me and you know how hard that is to do.”

Derek laughs, shaking his head. “So she’s the girl version of you?”

Spencer picks up his cup and sips his coffee. “Almost.” His smile grows. “We’re taking things slow. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Do you want her to be?” Derek questions.

Spencer bit the skin on his lip. “Eventually. I’m hesitant while she’s still one of my students. If the college found out, she could get expelled, and I don’t want to ruin her last semester for her.”

“Push that factor aside, Reid,” Derek says, looking into Spencer’s eyes. “Strip away the titles. You’re just a guy and she’s just a girl. If university policies and this job, and your past relationships weren’t factors, would you want her to be your girlfriend?” 

“Yes.” His answer was automatic—and that alone scared Spencer. 

He knew he wanted to be with her. He wanted to be her boyfriend—which made him sound like a stupid teenage boy, but it was true. He loved being around her. The two of them had so much in common, sometimes it freaked Spencer out. He just didn’t want to risk something bad happening to her.

“I know you’re scared,” Derek says, a small smile on his face. “But we got your back, man. This team is your family. We look out for each other—and you know we’d help look out for her. Who knows, maybe when she leaves college she’ll come work here, too.”

“She’s got the willpower,” Spencer replies, grinning. He puts a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Thank you. I love you guys, you know that.”

“What kind of bromance shit am I breaking up now?” 

Prentiss’ voice made both of them jump, a bit of Spencer’s coffee sloshing out of the cup. 

“Jesus, Prentiss, don’t scare me like that!” Spencer exclaims, setting his cup down and grabbing a paper towel, wiping up the coffee that had spilled.

Emily laughs. “You guys make it too easy.”

“You’re gonna give the poor kid a heart attack one day,” Derek says, smiling down at Spencer.

“She scared you, too!” Spencer retorts, standing back up. 

Derek and Emily laugh, the sound interrupted by Hotch approaching them.

“We got a case—serial in Durham, North Carolina. Wheels up in three hours.”

Spencer dumps his coffee out and looks at Derek. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?” Emily asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Gotta grab something before we leave,” Spencer lies, giving Derek a knowing nod before rushing out of the BAU.

Your POV

You were sitting on Spencer’s couch, criss cross, a book in your lap. Spencer had let you stay at his last night, waking you early this morning before he left to go to the BAU. He welcomed you to stay the day at his place, his soft kiss lingering on your lips all morning. 

You decided to take him up on his offer, spending your afternoon reading a random book you found on one of the bookshelves in Spencer’s place. You had stolen one of his old Caltech sweaters out of his closet, the material soft and warm. Curled up on his couch, a book in your lap, in his old sweater.

That’s the position Spencer found you in when he practically ran through his door. You lowered the book, eyes flicking up to Spencer. He was out of breath, cheeks flushed, holding a black bag.

“Did you run all the way here from the BAU?” You joke, grinning.

Spencer smiles, his eyes flicking over you. “Not quite. It would take me exactly one hour and seventeen minutes to run here from the BAU.”

You shake your head, pushing a bookmark in the book before closing it. Spencer eyes the book, walking over to sit next to you on the couch. He sets the bag at his feet.

“Are you reading Dante’s Inferno?” Spencer’s voice had a hint of surprise in it.

“Maybe,” you reply, reaching over to brush Spencer’s hair out of his face.

Spencer turns to you, leaning into your touch. He doesn’t say anything, his hand resting on your knee. His eyes search yours and you smile.

“You’re leaving,” you say, your thumb tracing over his cheek.

“There’s a case in North Carolina,” he explains, clicking his tongue. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“Does this mean I don’t get to find out my exam grade until you get back?” You ask, laughing, trying not to let the disappointment that he was leaving leak into your voice.

Spencer grins, moving his hand up to your cheek. “You aced it.”

“As I knew I would.” You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs. You look into his eyes for a moment, a silence falling over the two of you. “I’m gonna miss you.”

His smile almost disappears, his eyes a little sad. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

He leans in and plants a kiss on your forehead, then your nose, your cheeks, your chin and finally your lips. Your giggle was muffled by his mouth, the kiss gentle, but urgent. His fingers run through your hair, yours staying on his jaw. After a couple minutes, he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours.

“Hopefully I won’t be gone too long,” he says, hands running down your arms. “Hotch hasn’t told us about the case yet.”

“When do you take off?” You ask, tilting your head.

Spencer looks down at his watch. “Two and a half hours.”

“Can you stay here for a little while or do you have to go?” You ask him, smiling softly.

“I can stay for a second,” he says, standing up. He grabs your hands and pulls you to your feet. “I have to grab a couple things for my go bag anyway.” He grabs his bag.

The two of you walk into his room, and you take a seat on his bed. He rummages through his closet, folding a couple changes of clothes and putting them in his bag, along with a couple pairs of shoes. You watch him, leaning back on your hands. 

“You look good in the sweater,” he says, eyes flicking to you as he stuffs his clothes in his bag.

A blush runs across your cheeks. “I was cold, so I just found a sweater.”

“You still haven’t given me back my last sweater,” he says, walking over to you, kneeling down.

“Watch out, Dr. Reid, I’m out to steal all your sweaters,” you tease, running your hands through his hair.

He laughs, wrapping his arms around your torso. His body rests between your legs and you wrap them around his hips, pushing him closer to you.

His lips meet yours with a fire, and you kiss him back, fingers twisting in his hair. He gives a small groan, one hand running down your thigh. Without breaking the kiss, he stands up, taking you with him. Ignoring the bed, he pushes you against the wall next to his closet, his erection pressing against your core.

Breaking the kiss, you bite his bottom lip. “Going unconventional today, Dr. Reid?”

He smirks, his lips moving to your neck. He sucks at the skin, leaving small marks along it. You moan softly, his fingers working to pull down your shorts. You release his hips with your legs, setting your feet on the floor long enough that he can push your shorts and panties down before wrapping them around him again. 

His fingers trace up your slit slowly and you moan, grip tightening in his hair. “Fuck.”

“I would finger fuck you today, but we’re on a time limit, baby girl,” he whispers in your ear.

You groan, moving your lips to rest on his neck. You pay him back, sucking the skin harshly, smirking when you knew he’d have to cover them up in front of him team. He moans, his fingers working to unbutton his pants, pulling them and his boxers down just enough to line his hard cock up with your wet entrance.

“Are you…are you on birth control?” He asks, eyes searching yours.

You nod, smiling softly at him. “Yes.”

He nods, kissing you softly. You pull your head back, resting it on the wall. He meets your eyes as he pushes into you slowly, his mouth agape, a soft grunt escaping him. You bite your lip, stifling your moan as you feel him fill you up. He begins thrusting into you, slow at first, but picking up speed every second.

“Fuck, I’ll never get used to how good you feel,” he groans, his hands gripping underneath your thighs.

You grip the back of his head, his forehead moving to rest on yours as he pumps into you. His left hand moves to grip your ass, his right hand moving to rub your clit in slow circles. A moan slips out of you, your pussy clenching around him. His small smirk is enough to make you melt, nails digging into his neck.

“I wonder how fast I can make you cum,” he thinks out loud, the pressure on your clit increasing.

“F-fuck,” you moan out, feeling your lower belly tighten already.

His smirk grows wider as he thrusts into you faster as he begins to feel you unravel in front of him. Your nails dig harder into his neck, leaving red marks. His fingers move faster, angling his hips to thrust into your sweet spot. A soft cry leaves you, panting as he just about pushes you over the edge. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he says, his forehead pressed against yours. “Cum for me.”

You cry out again as his words push you over, his arms moving to wrap around your torso as your legs begin to shake. Your eyes never leave his as you finish, your pussy throbbing around him, the feeling of his thick cock pumping into you making you see stars. He never eases his thrusts, your breathing short as he continues to fuck you.

“F-fuck, Spence,” you moan, feeling his nails dig into your back.

His thrusts falter, and you can tell he’s close. You twist your fingers back in his hair, tugging on it, a groan leaving him. You feel his cock twitch inside you, and you hold his head in place as you look in his eyes, your pussy clenching around him.

You capture you lips in his, kissing him passionately. His grip on you tightens, his thrusts picking up speed for a couple moments before he breaks the kiss, a moan slipping out of him. His body shudders as he buries his cock inside of you, spilling his load into you.

His eyes don’t leave yours, his cock throbbing inside of you, panting softly as he comes down from his orgasm. He rubs your back softly, his head dropping to your neck, leaving small kisses up your skin to your jaw. Slowly, he pulls out of you, your legs dropping to the floor. You felt shaky, keeping your tight grip on Spencer. 

He kisses your forehead before disappearing into his bathroom for a moment. You push your weight against the wall, trying to steady your breathing. He appears a couple minutes later, holding a wad of toilet paper. Kneeling down in front of you, he wipes up your thighs, cleaning you off. You run your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him. He kisses up your thighs before standing again, going to dispose of the toilet paper.

You bend down, shakily pulling your panties and shorts back on. You go to sit on the edge of his bed again and hear him groan from the bathroom.

“How am I supposed to cover these up?” He asks, walking out of the bathroom to shower you the dark hickeys you left on his neck.

You blush, a small grin on your face. “Sorry, I had to pay you back. Wear your scarf.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “My team is definitely going to wonder why I never take off my scarf.”

“Let them wonder,” you say, standing up.

Spencer zips his go bag up and the two of you walk into his living room. He bites his lip, another nervous habit you’ve noticed he has. After a moment, he reaches into his pocket, taking a small silver key off his key ring.

He holds it out to you and you take it, fiddling with it in your hands. “What’s this?”

“It’s an extra key to my apartment,” he says quietly. “You can…you can come here whenever you want while I’m gone.”

“Just while you’re gone?” You ask, eyes meeting his, questioning him.

He was silent, and you knew he didn’t know how to answer your question. You stick the key in your pocket, wrapping your arms around him.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” you tell him, leaving small kisses on his neck.

He smiles, appreciation in his eyes, hands resting on your back. “Thank you.”

You run your thumb over his cheek. “Please don’t do anything stupid and die. Come back to me.”

He leans down to give you a soft kiss. “I will. I promise.”

You smile and release him. “Go on. Hotch will be wondering where you are.”

He goes to the door, hand lingering on the knob. “I…” He turns his head back to look at you.

“Yes?” You ask, your heartbeat picking up in your chest.

“I…um, I’m going to miss you.” An emotion you don’t recognize flashes through his eyes.

You give him a small smile. “I know. Go.”

He gives you a small nod before opening the door, closing it behind him. You hear him lock the door and you sigh, sitting back on his couch. Spencer was going to say something else—and you thought you knew what it was.

You pick up Dante’s Inferno, trying to read it as your mind fills with thoughts of Spencer Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a new chapter! I liked writing this chapter bc I love Derek and Spencer's friendship, it's so pure.  
> Thanks for the kudos :)


	12. Nightmares and Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a strange nightmare and Spencer takes you to a club to casually meet his team.

Four days.

That’s how long it’s been since you’ve spoken to Spencer. You got a text from him when he had landed in North Carolina saying he made it safely, but after that—radio silence. You had spent all four days in his apartment, curled up on his bed in his Caltech sweater, doing homework and watching Netflix on your laptop. You opted to stay at his place because it made it feel like he was here with you—his bed sheets smelled like him, his shampoo and conditioner were in the shower, the coffee he used was sitting on a tin on the kitchen counter. Here, you felt close to him.

You pause the show you were watching on Netflix and sit up in his bed, eyeing the key you had sat on his bedside table. Picking it up, you twist it in your fingers, biting the inside of your cheek. Spencer hadn’t given you an answer before. Was he going to take the key back when he got home? Or was he going to let you keep it, free to enter his apartment whenever you want?

You shake your head, setting the silver object back down. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself; Spencer wasn’t even your _boyfriend_. He was just starting to open up to you, and you didn’t want to freak him out or move to fast. 

Picking up your phone, you type a quick text.

_To: Spencer_  
_I miss you, Spence. I hope everything’s alright with the case!_

A moment passes when your phone rings. Seeing the caller ID, you smile and hold the phone up to your ear.

“Hey, you,” you say, leaning forward to rest your arms on your inner thighs.

“Hey,” the smile was evident in Spencer’s voice. “Sorry I haven’t called.”

“You’re working,” you reply, one hand twiddling with the blanket on his bed. “You’re busy, I understand.”

“I should find time for you, though,” he says, a grunt coming from him. He probably had just gotten back to his hotel.

“Spence, you’re trying to find a serial killer. I think that’s definitely more important than me.”

His low laugh makes your smile grow, and you close your eyes, savoring the noise. “Well, theoretically, yes. In actuality, you are much more important to me than a nobody who’s murdering people to be a somebody.”

“Well thanks, Spence.” You hear a male voice talking in the background and you raise your eyebrows. “Is that Derek?”

Spencer exhales. “Yeah, we’re rooming together.” The voice in the background rises and Spencer shushes him. “Morgan, I’m on the phone.”

 _”Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb Mister Lover Boy!”_ The words were muffled, but you could hear Derek’s smile.

You laugh at his words. “Tell him I said hi.” Spencer mutters your words to Derek. “How’s the case?”

Spencer was silent, and you could hear his big brain going seven thousand miles a minute. “It’s alright. We’re close.”

“Good,” you say, biting your lip.

“Are you at my place?” Spencer asks.

“I’ve been at your place since you left, actually,” you admit to him, a blush forming over your cheeks even though he couldn’t actually see you.

“Really?” You hear a squeak from the bed as he, presumably, lays down on it.

“Yeah.” You exhale slowly. “I told you, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” he replies, his voice soft. 

“You must be tired, it’s late,” you say, looking down analog clock on Spencer’s bedside table.

“You know I’m never too tired for you,” he whispers.

“Quit being cheesy and go to bed,” you laugh back, his words filling you with a warmth.

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles. “Hopefully, if all goes well, I should see you in…less than twenty-four hours.”

“That would be nice,” you whisper, crossing one of your arms in front of you.

“Okay, well, um, I’ll see you soon then,” Spencer says, a strange hesitancy in his voice.

“Good night, Spence.’

“Good night, y/n,” he says softly. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

You laugh before hanging up, setting your phone down beside you. The grin on your face hurt with how big it was. You nestle back down under Spencer’s thick comforter, resuming your show, breathing in the scent of the man who was 229 miles away from you. 

Your nightmare began like it always had the past three nights.

You were in a metal chair. It was cold—the chair seemed to burn your skin where it touched. You struggled to move, your arms and ankles tied to the chair. Everything was foggy—like you could never really focus. 

The more you tried to escape your bonds, the tighter they seemed to get. You felt your breath rising in your chest, on the verge of panic. A strange grip held your shoulders, but you could never look back to see who was touching you. A voice called out—a very familiar voice, faint.

Your name echoed off the walls, eyes widening when Spencer’s form came into view. He was always dressed the same—blue bulletproof FBI vest, his gun drawn and at his side. His eyes landed on you, then moved to whoever was behind you.

It was like life moving in slow motion. You called out to him, but no sound seemed to come out of your throat. You tried screaming, _It’s a trap! You’re in danger! Go!_ , but it never came out.

The last sound you always heard was a gun going off.

You woke up screaming, like you always do when you have the nightmare.

“It’s a trap! Spencer! It’s a trap!”

You felt strong hands gripping your shoulders, your arms flailing, trying to escape the grip, trying to distinguish reality from the haze of your dream. Your eyelids feel glued shut, like you couldn’t open them.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay! Open your eyes!” 

Spencer’s voice registers in your ear and your body slowly responds. Your hands find his on your shoulders, your heart beating inside of your chest so hard it was a wonder it didn’t crack your ribs. You take deep breaths, trying to slow the ongoing panic that was racing through your veins. Slowly, your eyes open.

He was kneeling at the edge of the bed. Spencer’s face was a mix of concern and confusion; his hands traveling up to your cheeks, wiping away the tears that you don’t even realize are falling. You release a small sob and he pulls you to him, wrapping his arms tightly around you. Your arms run around his back, taking fistfuls of his shirt in your hands, gripping like he might dissolve into thin air at any moment. He runs a hand through your hair, whispering “it’s okays” and “I’m right here’s” in your ear. 

After a moment, your grip on him loosens and you pull away, sniffing. 

“God, I’m sorry,” you whisper, shaking your head.

Spencer keeps his hands on your face. “Don’t apologize. You were having a nightmare.”

You nod. “Yeah, I was.”

“You said my name.” He tilts his head, hazel eyes searching yours.

You don’t respond, sniffing again, his right thumb swiping across your cheek to catch a tear. He leans in and kisses your forehead before pulling away, not pressing you about the contents of the nightmare.

“What time is it?” You ask, pulling away to look at the clock.

“It’s almost nine,” Spencer responds, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “We finished the case early this morning and flew back.” 

You pull him to you, letting his arms wrap around your waist. “I’m glad you’re here.”

His fingers rub your back and he kisses your forehead again. “Are you okay?”

After a moment of hesitation, you nod. “Yes. I’ve…I’ve had the nightmare before.”

“Are you going to tell me what it’s about?” He asks, leaning down to look into your eyes.

“M-maybe later, when it’s not so fresh in my mind,” you reply, the subtle tone in your voice telling him to not push you right now.

“Statistically, you have a better recollection of a dream if you talk about it right after it occurs,” Spencer says. He notices your look and his voice becomes soft. “But I won’t push you, okay? Tell me when you’re ready. Just know that I’ve suffered from nightmares, too.”

You nod thankfully, pulling him into you for a kiss. It felt good to kiss him and touch him after almost five days of no contact with him. Your hands ran from his neck to his chest, down his arms, pulling his hands away from your back, placing them in yours instead. 

You lace your fingers with his and pull away. “I missed you so much.”

Spencer’s nose touches yours and he laughs. “I missed you, too.”

You nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck for a minute, letting his arms wrap back around you. Closing your eyes, you try to memorize every inch of him—his smell, way his skin feels underneath your fingertips, the way he runs his fingers over your back. A moment later, you pull away, giving him a quick kiss.

“Come on,” you say, pulling him up off the bed with you. “I think we both need coffee.”

He chuckles and the two of you make your way into his kitchen. Spencer has an old school coffee pot—no Keurig or anything. He starts the pot and you lean against the counter.

“So I’m guessing you caught the bad guy?” You ask him, yawning.

“We did,” he says, smiling at you.

You notice the dark circles under his eyes and how wrinkly his clothes were. “You look tired, Spence. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“A little,” he sighs. “When we’re on cases it’s hard for me to sleep. My brain is always going so fast trying to analyze everything.”

“I understand,” you whisper, giving him a crooked smile. 

“I do have something I want to ask you though,” he says, a blush forming on his cheeks. He takes the couple steps over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Yes?” You reply, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

“D-do you want to go out with me tonight? And…properly meet my team?” 

The proposition takes you by surprise, your mouth falling open. “U-uh, yeah. Sure. I’d love to actually meet them.”

“Every couple months we do a night out, just as a de-stressor. Even Hotch comes,” he explains, the pink in his cheeks darkening. “So, I thought it might be nice to have you there.”

You nod, a toothy grin on your face. “I’d love that, Spence.”

He leans down to kiss your cheek. “The club is a few blocks away from here. We can leave at around seven?”

“Okay, but first you have to promise me you’ll take a nap,” you say, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Fine,” he groans, pouring you and him a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

After drinking your coffee, you left Spencer to shower and nap. As much as he wanted you to stay, you had to go home and get ready for the night. So for the first time in five days, you entered your apartment—and were almost immediately tackled by Jamie.

“Oh my god, tell me everything,” she says excitedly, a glimmer in her eye.

You realize it’s been a second since you told Jamie about Spencer. You sit down on the couch with her, telling her practically everything that has happened with you and Spencer—albeit leaving out some of the more…personal details. 

“Wait…he gave you a key to his apartment?” She asks, mouth wide.

You fish the key out of your pocket and hold it up, realizing you forgot to give it back to Spencer. “Yeah, he just gave it to me to use while he was out of town though…he’s probably going to ask for it back.”

“Well, he’d be stupid to,” she replies, raising her eyebrows. “I can’t believe you aren’t officially his girlfriend yet.”

“We’re taking it slow…” you reply, blushing softly. “I’m meeting his friends tonight—officially. Though, they’re more like his family in a way.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to get ready,” Jamie says, standing up. “You better tell me everything later!” 

You laugh and opt on taking a shower before pulling on a pair of black jeans and an olive green sweater. You don’t go to clubs much, but you didn’t want to be too fancy. Throwing on a little makeup, you glance at yourself in the mirror, nerves rising by the second. You’d already met his team before—but not in such a…casual setting. What do profilers even talk about? 

At 6:55, a knock on your door sounds, and you open it, revealing Spencer. He was dressed normally—sweater vest, tie, button up shirt, dress pants, Converse. His eyes sweep over you and he smiles.

“Beautiful,” he simply says, leaning in to give you a kiss.

You grasp his hand and smile. “I’m nervous.”

He leads you to his car. “Don’t be. I already know they like you.”

You climb into his car, buckling up as he begins to the drive to the club. His right hand never leaves your left thigh as he drives, the sound of the podcast Spencer was listening to filling the air. 

“You listen to podcasts about serial killers?” You ask him, a small grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

“They’re interesting to listen to,” he responds, a low chuckle leaving him.

You roll your eyes, enjoying the way Spencer’s fingers trace patterns on the top of your thigh. After about ten minutes, he pulls into a parking spot in front of a club you’ve never been to before. You unbuckle and get out, reaching for Spencer’s hand as soon as you come in close proximity to him. 

He squeezes your hand. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m excited,” you say, standing on your tip toes to give him a chaste kiss.

He kisses you back, smiling as he pulls away. “Come on!”

He sounds so excited, and you can’t help but laugh as he pulls you into the club. Loud music reverberated off the walls, the club dim, the only light coming from the red and blue overheads. It was crowded for a Sunday, and Spencer grips your hand tighter as the two of you weave through the crowd to get to his team. 

The first face you notice is Penelope’s, her smile lighting up her face when she sees you and Spencer. 

“Oh my goodness, hi!” She exclaims, standing up. Surprisingly, she hugs you, her grip tight. You laugh and hug her back. “I didn’t know Spencer was bringing you!”

She releases you and you look at Spencer. “He invited me when he got in this morning.”

“You were in his apartment?” She whispers, eyes wide.

“He just let me stay there while he was gone,” you explain softly.

She doesn’t ask any more questions, letting Spencer take hold of your hand again. The brown haired woman—Emily, you remembered—smiles at Spencer.

“You didn’t tell us you were bringing someone,” she says, glancing at you. 

“I remember you,” Hotch says, sitting against the wall of the club, a drink in his hand. “You’re the intelligent one from Spencer’s class.”

“Hotch, she’s actually my, uh, girlfriend.” The casual way Spencer says the word makes you freeze.

Your grip tightens on his hand for just a moment, your mind going blank for half a second before smiling. “Y-yeah, hi, it’s nice to actually meet all of you.”

The blonde girl—JJ, smiles at you. “It’s nice to meet you under nicer circumstances. Come on, let’s get you a drink!”

She grabs your other hand, ripping you away from Spencer and leading you to the bar. She smiles at you, tilting her head.

“I’m glad Spencer brought you!” She says over the music. By the way her words were slightly slurring and the blush in her cheeks, she was already tipsy.

The bartender comes over and you order your regular. “Yeah, it’s nice to hang out with his friends!”

“I’m sorry if we’re a little overwhelming,” JJ replies. “Spencer doesn’t have many friends outside of the team.”

“I can handle you guys, don’t worry,” you say, taking a sip of your drink.

You and JJ walk back over to the group, a drink already in Spencer’s hand. Derek’s next to Penelope, sweaty. Dancing, you presume. A smile breaks out on his face as he sees you.

“Well if it isn’t the girl who’s making Reid all mushy,” he muses, Spencer’s hand finding yours again.

You look up at him, seeing a blush form over his cheeks. “Guilty as charged,” you respond.

Derek grabs Penelope’s hand. “Come on, baby girl, let’s go dance.”

She sets her drink down and the two of them disappear into the crowd. You look up at Spencer and laugh.

“Are they dating?”

Spencer shakes his head, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Best friends. They don’t really like us to date our coworkers.”

“So, Reid tells me you’re in school to be a profiler,” Emily says, her words definitely slurring together

You nod, sipping your drink. “Yes, I’m on my last semester of undergrad, then on to get my masters.”

“I can see why he likes you—you’re smart,” Emily raises her eyebrows, a teasing smile on her face.

“That’s not the only reason,” Spencer says, his tone a smidge defensive.

You elbow him. “It’s alright, Spence.”

“Do you want to work for the BAU?” Hotch’s question takes you by surprise.

“Maybe,” you say, smiling at Hotch. “It’s a possibility I’m looking into.”

Hotch nods but says nothing more. You look at the dance floor before looking at Spencer.

“Dance with me?” You ask, downing your drink.

“I don’t really—“

“Dance with her, Reid!” Emily says, giving him a small push. 

You giggle, setting your glass down. “Come on, it’s just me.”

Your puppy dog eyes must have spoken to him, because he downs his drink and sets the glass next to yours. “Fine, let’s go.”

You grin and pull him onto the dance floor, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wraps his around your waist, letting his flat palms rest on your back.

“I feel stupid,” Spencer says, swaying to the beat slightly.

“Well, don’t,” you respond, moving your hips to the beat. “Just let go a little.”

“Let go of...?” He asks, pulling you a little closer.

“Control,” you respond, smiling up at him.

He smiles back, exhaling before letting a little of his control go, and before you knew it, the two of you were dancing—albeit you were not the _best_ dancers. After a couple songs, Spencer drags you off the floor, his team practically clapping when the two of you were in front of them again.

“Spencer Reid you have the moves of an angel,” Emily jokes, her tone light.

Spencer’s face could’ve been mistaken for a tomato with how red it was. “Shut up,” he mutters.

The team erupts in laughter and the rest of the night is full of drinking (mostly from you—Spencer was driving, after all), talking to the team, and dancing. You find out Emily is the biggest goofball when she’s drunk, Hotch—as stoic as he may seem—can crack a smile and obviously really loves his team, and JJ is definitely the mom of the group. 

You and Spencer leave around 1 AM, his arm around you as you walk back to the car. You were silent and a little tipsy. The drive back to his place was quiet, Spencer obviously waiting for you to ask the question you wanted to ask. He parks in front of his apartment, turning toward you.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, glancing at him. “So…are we going to address that you called me your girlfriend tonight?”

Spencer bites the inside of his cheek. “I just…I didn’t know what else to call you. We’re obviously more than friends…but we haven’t put a label on it so—“

“I get it,” you say, resting your elbow on the middle compartment in his car. “It’s much easier to say girlfriend than it is to say ‘person you’re kind of dating but we haven’t labeled it.’” 

“Do you want to put a label on it?” He blurts out, eyes widening.

“Are _you_ ready to put a label on it?” You ask him, reaching over to trace patterns on the back of his right hand.

Spencer gives you a small smile. “I-I think so. Maybe.”

“How about this,” you say, tilting your head. “Give it until morning. Right now, we’re both a little fueled by alcohol and we’re both a little tired. If you still feel the same in the morning…we can talk about it.”

Spencer leans in and gives you a kiss before opening his door. You follow suit, letting your hand find his as you walk up to his apartment. He unlocks the door and he leads you to his room. You had left your overnight bag at his place earlier, so you rummage through it, changing into a pair of pajama shorts and his Caltech sweater. 

“You really like that sweater,” he muses as he climbs into bed.

“It’s comfy,” you retort, sitting at the edge of his bed, fiddling with his silver key in your lap.

Spencer looks up at you, furrowing his eyebrows. “What is it?”

You hold up the spare key he gave you. “Do you…do you want it back?”

His eyes land on the key, then move to your face. “No. Keep it.”

You can’t help but smile, setting the key on his bedside table before lying down next to him. “Really?”

He leans in, his forehead touching yours. “Really.”

You smile and lean in, your lips meeting his. Your fingers run through his hair slowly, feeling Spencer melt into the kiss. Eventually, you break apart, letting your head fall to his chest. His arms rub your back, the steady sounds of his heart lulling you to the verge of sleep.

Right before you were pulled completely under, Spencer raspy voice utters something you feel like you weren’t supposed to hear.

“I find I can only sleep with you near me,” he mutters into your hair.

His grip tightens on you, the phrase the last thing you hear before slipping into sleep. And tonight, no nightmares keep you awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was super eventful, and long, so I hope y'all liked it!  
> I wonder what Reader's nightmare could be about?  
> Hehe, we'll see.


	13. The Eyes of a Murderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disagreement between you and Spencer leaves you upset, and you informally help the team with another case.  
> !!TW!!: mentions of death and suicide.

Waking up in Spencer’s apartment was a feeling you had grown accustomed to. You had become familiar with the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, the heat from his body and thick comforter keeping you warm, the frenzy of kisses he’d litter all over your face as you woke. It had been four days since that night at the club—and the day after, Spencer told you he wanted you to be his, and only his. Now, you felt comfort in knowing he was your actual _boyfriend_ , and not just some guy you may or may not be falling in love with. 

That’s why today, it felt weird to not feel the weight of his arms around you when you wake up. Groaning, you sit up in his bed, rubbing your eyes. It had been four days since you had the recurring nightmare—your guess was sleeping with who the nightmare was about held it off for a little while. You look at the indention on the bed from Spencer’s body, now cold. Yawning, you stand, walking toward the shut bedroom door.

Spencer’s voice from outside the door stopped you, and you hesitate, hand on the cold metal of the doorknob. Slowly, you twist the handle, opening the door just enough to see his figure.

“—have to take your medicine, Mom.” Spencer was leaning against the kitchen counter, back to you, his phone held to his ear. “I promise they’re not trying to poison you, they’re trying to _help_ you.”

You realize you’ve never heard Spencer talk about his mom before—he’s never even mentioned he _has_ a mom. And whoever she was, she was paranoid.

“Just please promise me you’ll take your medicine.” Spencer’s voice is pleading. After a moment, he sighs. “How would you like it if I came and saw you soon, hm?” His voice turns soft, almost like he’s speaking to a child. “I promise, soon. Can I speak with Dr. Marx now, please?” He nods his head, a smile evident in his voice. “I love you, too.”

You softly close the door, making sure not to make any noise. It was clear Spencer’s mother was hospitalized—with what, you didn’t know. You wait until you hear him near the end of his conversation before opening the door, his body immediately tensing.

“Mhm, I understand. Goodbye.” He hangs up and shoves the phone in his pocket, turning toward you. He looks stressed—and tired. Always tired.

“G’morning,” you whisper, shuffling over to him.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” 

Spencer wraps you up in a hug, kissing your forehead before releasing you. You step backward until your butt hits the counter, putting a little distance between you and Spencer.

“What was that about?” You gesture to the phone in his pocket. 

“Just talking to my mom.” His voice was guarded, obviously not wanting you to push the conversation too far. That and his downcast eyes made it very clear he didn’t want to talk about the subject.

You give a nod, taking a couple steps toward him. “I’ve never really heard you talk about her.” 

“There’s not much to talk about,” he states. His eyes flick back up to meet yours, the subtle caution in them telling you not to push him.

You don’t know why, but you can’t drop the subject. “I’d like to know about her, Spence. You can—“

“You don’t hear me pestering you about your mother, do you?” He snaps, his voice a harshness you’ve never heard. “So, please, just fucking drop it!”

His words sting and you physically take a step away from him. The immediate regret in Spencer’s eyes is evident, but your defense is automatic—walls rising without you even realizing. You smile, though no humor lies in it, a small, wry laugh puffing past your lips. After a second, you step past him, going back into his room. 

Spencer tails you, but you don’t care. You begin stuffing clothes in your overnight bag, not caring to fold them. He leans against the door frame, watching you.

“I’m sor—“

“I should go.” You zip up your bag and sit on the edge of his bed, pulling your shoes on. “I have to go home before I go to class.” Standing, you hoist the bag to your shoulder, brushing past Spencer without a second look.

He grabs your wrist and you turn to him, staring, your face cold. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice is thick, like he’s on the verge of crying.

You feel your face soften, thought your defenses can’t seem to drop. “I have to go to class.”

“Will you find me after?” He’s practically begging, eyes searching yours. “I’ll be at the BAU.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you give a slight nod. He releases you, and you turn away, walking the short distance to your car. Throwing your bag in the backseat, you slam the front door after climbing into the driver's side, gripping the wheel so tight your knuckles practically turn white. The anger inside of you had very little to do with Spencer—and you knew that. It’s just unfortunate for him that he triggered it.

You drive home quickly, throwing on a pair of leggings, a Star Wars graphic tee, and black boots. Spencer’s Caltech sweater completed the look, still wearing it even though you were slightly upset with him. Eyeing your dresser, you walk over and fiddle with the small opal ring you hadn’t worn in months. The sterling silver is cold on your fingertips, the stone changing color in the light. Exhaling, you slip it on your right ring finger before grabbing your bag and heading to class.

Going to class seemed pointless—you couldn’t concentrate anyway. Instead of listening to your Sensation and Perception professor ramble on, your thoughts were elsewhere. You ran your ring around your finger, thinking of the lukewarm fight you had with Spencer earlier. If he wants to be with you, he _needs_ to lower his defenses. Then again, the statement sounded hypocritical coming from you. 

Your classes on Thursdays end at 3, and before you knew it, you were driving to the BAU. You had never been without Spencer—would they even let you in? You park your car, taking a deep breath before taking the keys out of the ignition and stepping out.

FBI headquarters are huge—but luckily, you found a very nice lady to point you in the right direction of the BAU. Apparently, security knew you were coming—Spencer must have told them. After searching you, they deem you harmless and strap a visitor tag on you. 

You enter the bullpen, almost immediately running into Derek. 

“Y/n?” Derek’s confusion was written all over his face.

“H-hey,” you stutter. “Is Spencer around?”

“You mean Mister Doom and Gloom? The team is in an interrogation right now.”

“Who’s the unsub?” You ask, genuinely interested.

Derek hesitates a moment. “William Thomas. Twenty-four. We brought him in because we believe he killed four women, all in their thirties. We’re having a hard time getting him to confess.”

“What’s his family history?” You ask, tilting your head.

“Uh…” Derek looks down at the papers in his hand. “Father abused the mother until she committed suicide when William was ten.” The statement made your blood run cold. “After that, the father abused William. Graduated with bad grades, had problems with the law ever since.”

You were silent for a moment, arms crossed, twisting the ring on your finger. Derek notices, eyebrows scrunched together.

“What?” He asks.

“Take me to Hotch; I want to ask him something.” You met Derek’s gaze.

Derek raises his eyebrows. “Demanding. I can see why Reid likes you.” He contemplates for a moment. “I’m really not supposed to…but, come on.”

You follow Derek into a back room, all eyes falling on you when he opens the door. There was a panel of one way glass looking into a room with one video camera pointed at the unsub, the other video camera pointed to see who was interrogating . Seated at the table was a man—William, presumably. Spencer jumps up from his seat by the TV when he notices you.

“What is she doing here?” Hotch asks, looking directly at Spencer.

“She was supposed to meet me after she got out of her classes,” Spencer replies, taking a step toward you. “You should—“

“Put me in the interrogation room.” 

The room was stunned, all eyes turning to look at Hotch. Spencer’s eyes search your face, but you look right at his boss.

“No,” Hotch says firmly.

“I’m a fresh face. I know I don’t work for the FBI. But you need someone to empathize with him. He needs sympathy,” you explain, eyes never leaving Hotch’s. “I can give him that.”

“What makes you believe you can interrogate a criminal with no training?” He asks.

“Because I can empathize with him,” you say. “Please. Trust me.”

“You want to look into the eyes of a criminal and empathize with him?” Spencer’s voice is incredulous.

You keep your eyes on Hotch. “I can get you your confession.”

Hotch stares you down, and you don’t shrink away. “Fine. You have ten minutes. Take the Caltech sweater off.”

You pull off the sweater, handing it to Spencer. He grabs your arm, eyes searching yours.

“Are you sure you can do this?” 

You nod, your lips twisting into an apathetic smile. “Yes.”

With that, you open the door, coming face to face with evil.

Spencer’s POV

“Your girl is crazy.”

Derek’s voice rings out behind Spencer, and he turns to look at Derek, face cold. “Leave her alone.”

“She better be right about this,” Emily says, taking a seat by the TV, watching the video feed. 

Y/n closes the door behind her, William’s gaze flicking up to her. A look of surprise flashes on his face. He didn't expect to see a young girl in a Star Wars tee enter the interrogation room. But the surprise passes as she sits across from him. Looking at the video, Spencer was surprised to see her look at him unflinching, holding eye contact.

“You another fed?” William folds his hands in front of him.

She shakes her head. “No, I’m not a cop. Or a fed. I’m just a person. My name is y/n.”

William keeps his gaze on her, not wavering. After a moment, she speaks again.

“I’m in school right now, studying people like you. I think I know you better than you even know yourself.”

William raises his eyebrows. “Oh, is that so? Why don’t you tell me about me then.”

Y/n gives a soft smile. “Okay…” She sits up in her chair, leaning toward him, placing her hands on the table. “You were smart when you were little—had a lot of friends, got along well with people. You loved your mother more than anyone, though.” William’s eyes met hers. “And that’s why you couldn’t stand that your father beat her. You never saw it—but you heard it. You heard the pleas, and you noticed the bruises.” William’s eyes moved to the table, leaning back in his chair. 

“After she killed herself, you were sad. It was almost like you were drowning—like someone had grabbed your ankles and was holding you underwater, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t reach the surface.” Spencer’s attention went to the screen with her face on it. Her eyes were…sad, almost like she was reliving a memory. 

“Don’t talk about it like you understand,” William spat, hateful eyes meeting hers again.

She was quiet for a moment. “My mother killed herself when I was fourteen.”

Everyone in the room stiffens, Derek and Emily's eyes flitting to Spencer.

“Oh my god,” Spencer whispers, immediate regret filling him. 

“What?” Emily asks.

“This morning, she…she was trying to ask about my mom and I…I blew up on her and told her I don’t pester her about her mom, so why should she ask me about mine.” Spencer bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m such an ass.” Spencer’s eyes flick back to the monitors.

“So, I understand. You were sad…then it all turned to anger. Your mother died and left you alone with your father—who beat you now instead of her. You were angry at your father, at your friends, at the entire world.” William’s gaze was stuck to the table, her voice shaking slightly. “So…you just stopped. You isolated yourself. You retreated back into a shell full of hatred and anger. Grades started slipping, you didn’t have any friends.” 

“Her eyes have not left him the entire time,” Hotch notices, placing his hands flat on the table.

“She’s establishing trust.” Derek says. "And confidence."

“You hated your mother, eventually, too,” she whispers to William, his eyes meeting hers again. “You hated her so much for leaving you.” William balls his fists, knuckles turning white. “That’s why you killed those women. They were all broken, coming from broken homes. They reminded you of your mom.” Her voice broke slightly, enough to make Spencer’s chest well with hurt. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle and soft. “You killed them because you wanted to set them free. You were trying to make the world a better place. I understand.”

William’s eyes well with tears, his voice shaky. “I…I was just trying to help.”

Y/n nodded, a sympathetic smile on her face. “I know. You wanted to help.”

“And now…they’re free because of me,” William says, tearful eyes meeting hers.

"Well I'll be damned," Derek mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. "The kid did it."

She cranes her neck around to look through the glass, eyes searching for Hotch. He walks over to the door, opening it. As she stands, William leans forward.

“Wait!” He says, catching her attention.

Hotch stiffens, but she nods at him. "It's okay." She turns to face William. “Yes?”

“Does it…does it ever get easier? The pain?” 

The smile on her face was far away and sad. “Eventually, William.”

Without another word, she walks back into the room, leaving William Thomas to his fate.

Your POV

Hotch had sat you down on what you can only assume is Spencer’s desk. It was full of books, sticky notes, coffee cups, and small fossils. You guessed there was some form of paperwork the team had to do now that the bad guy had confessed. After a few minutes of looking at the ground, Spencer’s Converse appear in your line of vision.

“Are you okay?” You hear him ask.

You look up at him. “I’m fine.”

He kneels down in front of you, hands resting on your knee. “You…I’m sorry.” He hands you the Caltech sweater and you slip it on.

You didn’t need to ask what he was sorry about. You knew. “It’s alright, Spence. It was a long time ago.”

You meet his eyes and his hazel eyes search yours. Swallowing, you move your hands to rest on his, squeezing tightly.

“I’ll never forget that day,” you whisper, averting your gaze. “I came home from school that day so excited because I had just figured out what I wanted to do for the science fair.” Spencer laces his fingers in yours. “I went upstairs and put my book bag in my room. I remember going into my parent’s room and…” Your voice broke, lower lip shaking like a dam about to break. “I stayed with her. Holding her hand until my dad got home an hour later.” You meet Spencer’s eyes. “My dad was nothing like William’s. He’s the sweetest guy I know.” You bite your lip, Spencer’s thumb rubbing yours. “She mixed alcohol and pills. They…they said it was like going to sleep.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice catching in his throat.

“It was a long time ago,” you repeat, a small smile on your face. “I miss her every day.” You twist the ring on your finger—your mom’s. “There’s a difference between William and I, though. He let his anger destroy him. I didn’t.” At any rate, you knew for a long time, every time you close your eyes—you’d see William Thomas’ broken ones staring right back at you. 

“No, you didn’t,” Spencer says firmly, leaning in to give your forehead a quick kiss.

“I’m sorry I got upset this morning,” you apologize, regret already filling Spencer’s eyes.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry I shut you out.” He loosens his hand from your grasp and runs his thumb across your cheek. “My mom…she’s a paranoid schizophrenic.”

“Spence, you don't have to--”

“She lives in a mental hospital in Vegas, where I grew up.” He rests his hands on yours again. “She doesn’t like taking her meds, which is what I was addressing this morning on the phone.” He looks down, shaking his head slightly.

“You feel guilty because you don’t see her very much.” You don’t say it as a question because you don’t need to. You know Spencer.

“I’m trying to see her more,” he replies, looking up at you again.

You stand, hands gripping his forearms. “I understand, Spence.”

“So do you…will you come home with me?” He voice was almost innocent.

You smile at him, giving him a chaste kiss. “Of course.”

“I have to finish up a couple things here first.” He starts to walk away before turning back around. “And you did amazing today. You didn’t need interrogation skills. You had everything you needed—his profile and your empathy.”

As Spencer walks away, you smile to yourself. You had some doubts when it came to profiling, but the fact that this went well further solidifies your plans to become a profiler. And with only two and a half months left in school, you felt more and more ready to be doing something you love.

A finger taps your shoulder and you turn around, coming face to face with Aaron Hotchner.

“Oh, hi, sir.” Your voice is full of surprise, and he notices.

“Hello,” he replies. “I just wanted to say that you…did exceptionally well today. If you don’t mind, I’d like to meet with you tomorrow for lunch. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

His proposition is surprising, and you quickly cover it. “Of course, sir.”

“Let’s meet at Chow. It’s a couple blocks away from here. Twelve pm.”

You nod and returns it before walking away. After a moment, Spencer appears beside you, lacing his fingers in yours.

“What did Hotch want?” He asks as the two of you walk toward the front of the building.

“I’m not sure,” you say truthfully. “He wants to meet me for lunch.”

“Lunch?” Spencer clicks his tongue. “Interesting.”

One thing was very clear: this lunch was either going to be a complete disaster, or an absolute breeze. Either way, it was going to be unforgettable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, I wonder what Hotch will talk to Reader about...  
> Also, sorry for the lack of smut. We might fix that next chapter... :)  
> Thanks for the kudos y'all!


	14. Handcuffs and Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer puts his handcuffs to good use and you meet Hotch for the mystery lunch.

Spencer squeezing you awake was the first sensation you felt the next morning. Giggling, you keep your eyes shut, snuggling closer into him. He groans, lips attaching to your neck, his thick erection pressing firmly against your ass. You tilt your head, giving him better access to the soft skin. He sucks as your neck, a fervent hunger unraveling inside of both of you.

You turn around, his hands staying firmly clasped around your back. You hitch your right leg over his hips, pulling him closer to you. He immediately kisses you, lips crashing into yours so hard you were sure it would bruise later. His hand snakes up your back, gripping your hair tightly. You moan into his mouth, the small noise causing Spencer to pull your hair, your chin jutting upward. His lips trail across your jaw down to your throat, his teeth scraping lightly over the flesh.

“Fuck,” you groan, one of your hands moving to rest in his hair, gripping it as tight as you can.

His own moan reverberates against your throat, a yelp escaping you as he sinks his teeth into you, sucking hard on the flesh right above your collarbone. Your eyes flutter shut, yanking Spencer’s own head back up to you, resuming the heated kiss from earlier. After a moment, you pull away, a smirk on your face.

“What is it?” Spencer’s breath comes in pants, shifting his hips to press against you again.

“I want you to do something for me.” You sit up, your hair framing your face wildly. Spencer follows suit, brushing the hair away from your face.

He notices the dangerous glint in your eye. “What?”

You feel heat spread across your cheeks. “Punish me.”

Surprise flashes in Spencer’s eyes. “Punish you?”

Leaning in, your lips brush up his throat to his ear, tugging his earlobe softly. “Don’t you have a pair of handcuffs, _Special Agent_?” 

A sharp exhale leaves Spencer and you trail your lips across his jaw to his lips, kissing him softly before leaning back. The look in his eye is dangerous, and he moves slowly off the bed. At full height, you could see Spencer’s erection straining his pajama pants, earning a grin from you. Spencer disappears into the living room, returning after a moment with his handcuffs hanging off one finger.

With his other hand, he uses two fingers to motion you forward. “Come here, baby girl.”

You swing your legs off the bed, walking over to him. Your body is almost flush against his, a smirk on his face as he looks down at you, pupils dilated. He grips your arm, turning you around so his clothed cock presses against your ass. 

“Be a good girl and take off the sweater,” he commands, one hand gripping your hip.

You bite your lip, pulling the blue Caltech sweater off yourself, letting it fall to the floor. You weren’t wearing a bra, feeling slightly self-conscious as Spencer’s hand moves from your hip to your tit, massaging it before taking one of your hard nipples between his fingers. After a moment, his hand runs across your stomach to your arm. You inhale sharply as Spencer grips your wrists, pinning them behind your back. You feel the cold metal around your wrists, and he tightens them.

“Is that too tight?” His voice was soft.

You move your wrists around and shake your head. “No, not at all.”

Spencer tilts your head, letting his lips ghost along your neck. Your hands behind your back rest on his crotch, and you apply the slightest of pressure, earning a small moan from Spencer in your ear. He moves away from you and you almost whine at the loss of contact. He sits at the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands.

“Come lay on my lap.”

You hesitate a moment before walking over to him. Not surprisingly, laying down on someone is a little hard to maneuver with your hands cuffed behind your back. Spencer helps you, and you let your head rest on the edge of his lap, propped up on your knees. His right hand runs up your thigh, brushing over your clothed ass. Groaning, you shift, spreading your legs slightly.

“You’re so needy,” he muses, his light touch almost tickling the back of your thighs.

“Is this part of my punishment, doctor?” You ask, grinning when you feel his cock twitch underneath you.

“You want it to be, don’t you?” He retorts, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs.

His hands immediately grip your ass, your pussy clenching as he does. You knew you were already wet; the thought of what Spencer was going to do to you causing a heat to grow in your lower belly. You feel his fingers brush across your white panties.

“I like that you wear white when you know you’re anything but innocent.” His hand lightly slaps your ass, a small squeak coming from you. “Historically, white is used to signify purity…but you’re anything but pure, aren’t you, baby girl?”

You didn’t think Spencer info-dumping at a time like this would be so hot—but it was. Instead of an answer, you let out a little moan, his fingers swiping lightly up your clothed slit.

“Answer me,” he demands, his hand squeezing your ass.

“N-no, I’m not pure,” you stutter, another moan escaping you as he pulls down your panties, revealing your slick core to him.

Spencer snickers. “That’s what I thought.”

His hand comes down on your ass, harder, the sound of the slap filling the room. You yelp softly, the impact making you clench. His left hand traces up your spine, a shudder running through you as his fingers ghost over your skin. He grips your hair tightly, his hand coming back down on your ass with a smack.

“Fuck, daddy!”

The word slips out of your mouth before you can catch it, your whole body tensing. Spencer’s cock twitches beneath you, his hand squeezing your ass. You practically hold your breath, trying to gauge his response—which is kind of hard considering you can’t see his face. 

“Say it again.” His words are accompanied by another spank, this one harder than the last, leaving you breathless. 

“Daddy…” A moan leaves you, eyes fluttering shut.

Spencer groans at the name, his fingers lightly tracing up your wet slit. He separates your folds, ghosting the tips of his fingers over your entrance. You ball your fists, wrists straining against the handcuffs as you squirm beneath him. His other hand leaves your hair, holding your hips still.

“Tell daddy what you want.” Another spank follows his words, his fingers going back to your slit, barely brushing over your clit.

“I—fuck—I need your fingers, daddy.” Your pussy clenches around nothing, aching to be filled.

You can practically feel Spencer’s smirk as he pushes his middle finger inside of you, the guttural groan flying past your lips as he curls it inside of you. He doesn’t move, keeping his finger tortuously inside of you. You whimper, trying to move your hips.

He snickers, keeping you still. “So eager, baby girl.” He pushes his finger into your g-spot and you cry out, clenching. “It’s almost like you forget you’re being punished.”

The need for him to move is overwhelming. You pull against the cuffs, surely bruising your wrists in the process. “P-please, daddy, I’ll be a good girl! I promise!”

“Oh, you promise?” He pulls his finger out slowly before pushing back into you, clenching around his one finger desperately. His low chuckle makes you shiver, his hand moving from your hip to your hair. 

He begins finger fucking you at a steady pace, a string of moans and whimpers falling out of your mouth as he does. He pulls on your hair, your back arching deeper as he inserts his ring finger.

“Does that feel good, baby girl?” He whispers, his cock pushing against your bare chest, twitching inside of his pajama pants.

“Y-yes!” You groan, crying out as he curls both of his fingers inside of you.

“Yes, what?” His thumb moves to rub your clit, your body jerking slightly as he puts pressure on your sensitive nub.

“Yes, daddy!” 

You feel yourself moving toward release, the sensation in your lower belly growing as he continues to pump his fingers mercilessly in and out of your core. Euphoria creeps through your veins, eyes rolling back into your head as you clench around him. Spencer pushes you to teeter over the edge, your body practically shaking at the edge of release.

The absence of Spencer’s fingers practically makes you sob, a high-pitched whine ripping from your throat. Spencer chuckles, hands gripping your hips as he moves you to straddle him. One hand supports your back to keep you from falling off of him. The stupid grin on his face makes you pout, his fingers tracing over your lips.

“Did you forget you were being punished?” He asks softly, pushing the fingers that were just inside you in your mouth.

You meet his eyes, swirling your tongue around his fingers slowly. Spencer groans, mouth agape as he watches you, pushing his covered cock up into you. As much as he doesn’t want to seem desperate, you know all he wants is release himself. You push your head onto his fingers, letting them move deeper in your mouth. His grip on your back tightens and you release his fingers, mouth contorted into a smirk.

He recognizes your challenge, smirking as he leans in to kiss you. The kiss is heated, accompanied by the slight movement of your hips rocking against him. He groans into your mouth, his free hand pushing his pajama pants down with fervor. He doesn’t hesitate, immediately pushing his length into you. Wrapping his arms around you, he doesn’t hold back, holding you in place as he thrusts up into you repeatedly.

Your eyes never leave his, mouth hanging open. “D-daddy…”

“Does that feel good, baby?” He whispers, the pet name causing you to clench around him, earning you a groan.

“Y-yes, daddy, you feel so good.” Your voice is a breathless whisper, keeping your body still as he increases his pace.

“Good—ah—good girl,” he pants, reaching one hand between your thighs to rub your clit.

Your body jolts, leaning your forehead against his. “F-fuck me.”

A breathy laugh leaves Spencer, sinking into you deeper, hitting your spot each time. “Are you going to cum for me, baby?”

You feel the knot tightening in your stomach, warmth running through your veins. The combination of his cock and his fingers pushes you to the edge quickly, your legs shaking from the intense pleasure.

“Y-yes, I’m so close,” you whimper, pulling your head back so you can look into his eyes.

“Say my name.”

You pant, teetering on the edge. “S-Spencer!”

“Louder.” His fingers work faster on your clit, the knot beginning to unravel inside of you.

“Spencer!” You cry out, wrists straining against the cuffs.

“That’s it, baby, cum for me.”

Your name slips past his lips over and over again, muttering it like a prayer as you finish, your voice being cut off by Spencer pressing his lips against yours. Your body shakes, his fingers leaving your clit. He holds you against him tightly as your pussy throbs around his cock, trying to coax his orgasm out of him. Spencer pulls back, looking into your eyes as your name flies out of his mouth, his thrusts faltering as he fills you with his cum. 

The two of you are still for a moment, panting, foreheads pressed together as you come down from the high you were riding. He leans in, kissing you softly for a moment before lifting you off of him. He lays you softly on your stomach, the metal clinking as he releases you from his handcuffs, your wrists falling limp by your sides. You can’t really feel your hands.

You hear Spencer’s footsteps retreat into his bathroom and you try to catch your breath, the feeling return to your hands in bits and pieces. He returns a few moments later, and he turns you onto your back. You watch as he runs a warm washcloth up your thighs, cleaning the mess the two of you had made. After a moment, you sit up, eyeing your wrists. They were definitely bruised and sore. Standing on shaky legs, you walk to the bathroom to pee and take a look at yourself in the mirror.

“Do your wrists hurt?” Spencer appears behind you, wrapping his arms around your still naked body, his lips brushing over your neck.

“A little. I hope Hotch doesn’t notice at our lunch today.” You close your eyes, smiling softly as you feel his lips touch your skin.

“Do you know what that’s about?” He inquires, releasing you.

You shake your head, walking back into his bedroom. You rifle around your bag, pulling out a long sleeve, lavender shirt and a pair of black pants. Pulling on the outfit, you look at yourself in Spencer’s mirror.

“Do you have a scarf I can wear?” You tilt your head, the new hickeys prominent against your pale skin.

Spencer grins, walking to his dresser and pulling out a purple scarf. He runs his fingers up your neck, smirking. 

“I think they look great.”

He places the scarf around your neck and you roll your eyes. “Of course you do. Hotch, on the other hand, probably doesn’t.”

You slip your shoes on and stand, immediately wrapping your arms around Spencer. He smiles softly, pressing his lips to yours for a chaste kiss. You kiss him back, smiling as you pull away. Looking into his hazel eyes, warmth swells in your chest. Your fingers run through his hair, internally struggling with the words you want to say to him next. 

Hugging Spencer was like holding the universe in your arms. The way he held you…it was like he was afraid to let you go—like if he releases you, you might disappear into thin air, whisked away by the wind. Over the course of two and a half months, this guy you met in a bar has become your whole entire world.

“Spencer, I—“

“I love you,” he cuts you off, his voice a whisper, barely audible. The words are spoken with no hesitation, leaving him quickly, like he can’t stop himself from saying them. “In the seventy-four days, twelve hours, and forty-three minutes I have known you, at some point, I fell in love with you.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your fingers running through his hair. “Spencer Reid, you have utterly and completely stolen my heart. I love you, too.”

He lets out a breath, the look on his face almost relief. He kisses you softly, like you might break if he pushes too hard. You sink into the kiss, pulling him c loser to you. After a minute, you break away, panting softly.

“I’m going to be late if I don’t go,” you mutter against his lips.

Kissing you again quickly, he releases you. “Come back after?”

“Of course, love.”

Grabbing your purse and keys, you leave him, shutting the door firmly behind you before locking it. The drive to Chow doesn’t take long—it’s only a few minutes away from Spencer’s apartment. Walking inside, you’re hit with a rush of warm air and the scent of toasted sandwiches. Your eyes glance around the room, spotting Hotch at a corner table by the far left window. He spots you, standing as you approach him.

He shakes you hand firmly. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You as well.” You take a seat, Hotch sitting across from you. 

“This place has a big menu, so hopefully you’ll find something you like,” Hotch explains, folding his hands in front of him on the table. “It’s on me, as well.”

“Sir, you don’t have to—“

“I’m the one who invited you to lunch; it’s my treat.” 

Nodding, you smile at him and he almost returns it. You settle on a turkey and avocado toasted sandwich and homemade chips, Hotch on a BLT. The two of you make small talk through your meal, and eventually you finish. After the waitress takes Hotch’s cash and leaves the two of you alone, you shift in your seat. You aren’t uncomfortable, but something about Hotch’s intense gaze made you uneasy.

Hotch eventually breaks the silence. “You graduate in a couple months, do I have that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer him quickly. 

He nods. “I have something I’d like to offer you.”

“What is that?”

“A position as an intern with the BAU.”

His offer catches you off guard, leaving you speechless. “Wha—I…”

“I’ve been talking to our section chief about you. I see a lot of potential in you as a profiler from what you’ve shown us the two times you’ve helped us.” Your mind is still spinning, trying to comprehend what Hotch is saying to you. “If you go to the FBI academy and do well, we are prepared to give you an internship position with us. We will mentor you and teach you everything we know.”

“Wow.” The word felt stupid coming from your mouth. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” Hotch explains. “You can get back to me in a couple days.”

“What about Spencer?” You lean forward, pressing your arms into the table. “I know you don’t allow—“

“Considering you would be coming into the BAU already dating Spencer, there’s nothing we can do about that. Plus, in my opinion, the skills you two possess outweigh the slight inconvenience of you dating.” He hesitates a moment. “But, as unit chief, I won’t allow the two of you to go into the field together.”

“I understand that completely.”

Hotch nods. “I expect an answer in a couple days.” He stands and you mirror him. He offers his hand and you shake it again. “It was nice seeing you again.”

He walks away and you stand frozen for a moment, stunned at the conversation you just had with Hotch. Grabbing your purse, you walk to your car and drive back to Spencer’s in a haze. You try to grasp what Hotch just told you, your brain going a million miles a minute. All of your plans to get your masters suddenly flew out the window with Hotch’s proposition. 

Unlocking Spencer’s door, you enter his apartment. Spencer was reading on the couch, curled up in a fuzzy blanket. He smiles when he sees you, setting his book down. He sees the look on your face and furrows his brow, sitting up.

“What is it?” His voice holds an air of concern.

Your eyes land on his face. “Hotch just offered me a job with the BAU.”

“What?” 

Yeah, you had no idea how this conversation was going to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A LOT happens in this chapter and I'm sorrryyyy.  
> But yay! Smut! Yay! Feelings and fluff!!  
> I wonder how the conversation between Reader and Spencer is gonna go... :)


	15. Good Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Spencer "talk" and you give Hotch an answer.

“He offered you a job?” Spencer’s voice is quizzical.

You stand in front of his coffee table, arms crossed. “He told me that after I graduate, the BAU is prepared to offer me an internship.”

“An internship?” 

You nod. “The team can mentor me, teach me everything they know.”

“So you wouldn’t go to grad school?” He stands, matching your pose, arms crossed in front of him.

“No.” 

“So you’re just abandoning your plans?”

You can’t help but feel like he’s interrogating you, mirroring your actions. You try to put yourself in his shoes: his girlfriend is going to potentially work a highly-skilled and dangerous job with him. He wants to protect you. Your thoughts flash to Maeve—the girl Spencer tried so hard to protect. You wonder if he subconsciously sees her in you—someone he loves who he needs to protect. 

Spencer is silent, arms still crossed in front of his body. You take hesitant steps toward him until your body is next to his, gripping his arm and lowering him onto the couch. Thighs touching, your fingers run down his forearm, letting your hand rest on the top of his. 

“Spence,” you whisper. “Look at me.”

He lets out a slow exhale, turning his face to look at you. Your lips turn up into a small smile, relaxing a little when he returns it. Your eyes meet his, unwavering.

“Yes, I would be abandoning my plans. But this is…basically an offer I can’t refuse.” You trail your thumb over his cheek, letting him lean into your touch. “You can teach me everything you know.”

“I can’t protect you if we’re on the job together,” he mutters, cheek resting in your hand.

“You know Hotch won’t let us out into the field together, Spence. We’re a liability.” You exhale slowly through your nose. “If we’re out in the field together—“

“I won’t be able to think about protecting the rest of the team.” He smiles, running his thumb over your hand. “If someone shot at you…I’d jump in front of the bullet.”

You know his sentence is an honest one, because you would do the exact same for him—without hesitation. 

“You really want to work for the BAU?” Spencer’s voice isn’t judgmental, more curious.

“It’s like a dream, Spence,” you reply, squeezing his hand.

He leans in, forehead pressing against yours. He sighs, and you know he’s wrestling with the wanting you to be happy and his fear of something happening to you. Your happiness outweighs the latter, and he leans in, kissing you softly before pulling away.

“I want you to be happy,” he confirms, moving his hand to brush through your hair. 

You smile. “I’m glad you’re not mad.”

“Do you really think I’d get mad at you over something as trivial as this?” 

“People get mad about all sorts of things when it involves the people they love,” you retort, leaning back to sit criss cross on the couch.

“If anything I’d get frustrated,” he muses, catching your eyes. “But I’m not!”

“I know, Spence.” You pull him to you, letting his head rest on your lap. Your fingers absent-mindedly play with his hair, braiding little strands and letting them fall apart.

He closes his eyes, a little grin on his face. “Have I ever told you I love having my hair played with?”

“No, never.” Your fingers run through his hair, starting at the roots and slowly moving to the ends.

“I’m pretty sure it’s because no one ever did it with me as a child.” He lifts his head a little, letting you gather the hair by his neck. “It feels good.”

You run your nails up the nape of his neck, hearing him inhale slowly. You gather the hair by his neck again, tugging it softly on your way back up, feeling Spencer shift on the couch. Your eyes rake down his body, noticing the slight bulge in his pajama pants. Your other hand moves to just below his neck, swirling your fingers in small patterns on the skin.

“I think you like it a little too much,” you tease, Spencer’s eyes opening to look at you.

“It’s not fair; your hands feel good,” he whines, flashing you a toothy smile.

Your fingers move up to hollow of his neck, letting them brush across it softly. He shivers, and you let your fingers move through his hair softly. He inhales sharply as your fingers graze his neck, eyes shutting, and you tilt your head.

“Do you like being choked, Spencer?” 

The question comes out of nowhere and his eyes fly open, a blush spreading over his cheeks. Instead of answering, he bites the inside of his cheek, avoiding your gaze.

“Oh my god, you do.” You giggle, wrapping your hand around his neck, not applying any pressure. You notice his dick twitch in his pants. Subtle. 

His eyes find yours, squirming a little under your touch. “I…I’ve never actually been choked. I’ve choked other people, but the thought of _being_ choked…” You feel him swallow. 

“Does it excite you?” You question, applying the slightest pressure to his neck. He doesn’t need to answer—the slight increase of his pulse and the way his pupils dilate tell you everything you need to know.

After a moment, you release his neck, an audible whine coming from Spencer. You’ve never seen him like this—almost submissive in his actions. You shift him off your lap, moving to straddle him. As soon as you apply pressure to his erection, he groans, hands flying to your hips.

“Hands off,” you command, surprised when he follows your orders, laying his hands by his sides. 

You slowly grind into him, watching the way his hands twitch at his sides, like he’s trying not to move them. Being submissive doesn’t come naturally to Spencer—you know that. His eyes look up at you, a little dazed, and you lean forward, letting your hands travel from his chest to his neck.

“Do you remember our conversation about dominance and submission?” You ask him.

He nods, a small groan leaving him as you move your right hand to his neck. 

“Use your words like a good boy.”

“Y-yes.” You feel his pulse quicken underneath your fingertips. 

“And what did I say about submission?” 

“A submissive isn’t afraid to lose control or give up their control,” he whispers, moaning softly as you apply more pressure to his clothed erection.

“What did I say about _you_ and submission?” 

“T-that you rarely think I’m submissive.” He gasps softly as you apply pressure around his neck. “But you think some part of me wants to give up my control.”

“And do you?” You ask, ceasing your constant movement on his crotch.

He doesn’t answer at first, pushing his hips up so his hard on presses against you, letting out a small whine as you use your other hand to hold his hips down. After a moment, he meets your gaze.

“I do.”

You smirk, leaning down to kiss him. His hands move to your hips again, urging you to move against him. You lean back, taking his hands off your hips.

“Your fingers don’t touch me unless they’re going into my pussy or my mouth,” you tell him, your words emitting a groan from him. You tighten your grip on his neck, his hands falling at his sides again. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he gasps out, tongue flicking over his lips.

“Yes what?” 

“Y-yes, miss.”

You smirk down at Spencer. “Making you submissive is easier than I thought it would be.”

Right hand staying around his neck, your left hand moves to below you, letting yourself palm his erection. He groans, his breathing coming quicker as you trail your hand up and down his length slowly. 

“Fuck!” He whimpers out, hips bucking. “Please!”

You grin, moving your hands to take off your top, your bra coming off quickly afterward. You run your hands up your body as you grind slowly on him, your nipples hardening as his eyes sweep over your chest. You close your eyes, leaning your head back as you run your finger around one of your nipples, hearing his small, desperate moan ring out around you. You moan in response, letting your finger brush over your nipple slowly.

“You’re such a tease,” Spencer whines, his tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth.

You sigh, rising off of him to pull your pants and panties down quickly. “I have a better use for your mouth.”

His eyes widen as you climb on top of him again, moving to hover over his face. You feel his warm breath on your wet core, his arms immediately wrapping around your thighs. You let him, eager to see how he reacts. His tongue slowly runs up your slit and you groan. He’s so eager to please.

You sit completely on his face, feeling him groan as he wraps his lips around your clit. His tongue flicks over it lightly, your body jolting slightly. You slowly grind your face over him, his nails digging into your thighs.

“Yeah? Do you like that? Letting me sit on your face, using you for my pleasure?”

He can do nothing but moan, letting his tongue move from your clit to your cunt, inserting his tongue with no hesitation. You fall forward slightly, letting your hands grip on the edge of the couch as you grind on his tongue. He pushes deeper, his nose brushing against your clit as his nails dig deeper into your thighs.

“Fuuuck,” you groan, sitting back up, resting your hands on his stomach, his erection tenting his pajama pants. “Play with my clit; make me cum on your face like a good boy.”

He doesn’t object, his mouth moving to your clit, taking in his mouth quickly. His teeth graze it before taking it in his mouth, flicking his tongue over it quickly as he pushes you to your release. You grind harder on his face, his moans reverberating through your clit, pushing you to the edge.

“Ah—fuck, that’s right,” you groan, one hand reaching down to his dick, gripping it. He moans loudly onto your clit, the vibration pushing you to teeter on the edge. “I’m so close, baby.”

Spencer’s tongue goes into overtime, flicking faster over your clit, desperate to have you finish on his face. Your pussy throbs as you finish, body shuddering, his grip tightening on your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue traces around your clit to your cunt. You let out a breathy moan, body jolting as you come down from your orgasm.

“Such a good boy,” you praise, lifting your body up.

Spencer inhales a breath, his lips glistening with your juices. Moving off of him, you stand. 

“Take off your clothes for me.”

Spencer sits up, wiping his bright red face. He unbuttons his pajama top, exposing the pale skin of his chest and stomach, letting the top fall to the floor. His pants are quick to go, his dick springing free.

“No underwear tonight?” You muse, watching him take off his socks.

He laughs. “I wasn’t feeling it.”

You chuckle. “Lay back down.”

He obeys, laying flat on his back, hands at his sides. His fingers tap the couch, almost nervous like as he turns his head to look at you. You push your pants and panties down, keeping the panties in one hand as you climb on top of him again. His bare dick presses against your wet core and he groans, fingers twitching.

“Open.”

He willingly opens his mouth and you push your panties inside, a muffled moan ringing out around you. You smirk, grinding against his dick, lifting one of his hands to your mouth and running your tongue up his pointer and middle fingers. His eyes are glued to your mouth, hips shifting slightly underneath you, almost desperate for friction.

“Look at you, so needy for me.” You push his fingers inside your mouth, teasing him. 

His hips buck again underneath you and you pull his fingers out. Smirking, you wrap your hand around his neck again, his eyes practically rolling back into his head as you lift yourself up and slide down onto his dick. 

“Fuck,” you whisper as you sit on his length, closing your eyes for a moment. 

You apply pressure to Spencer’s neck as you begin riding him, the nails of your left hand digging into the skin on his chest. You ride him faster, leaning your head back as he pushes deep inside of you repeatedly. A string of muffled moans leaves Spencer, a little trail of spit leaking out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Yeah, do you like that?” You increase the pressure on Spencer’s neck. “Do you like being choked and ridden? Maybe if you’re a good boy I’ll let you cum.”

A desperate cry escapes Spencer and you remove the panties from his mouth. “I’ll be good, I promise!” He pants out, eyes fluttering shut as you take him deeper.

“Look at me.”

His eyes meet yours and you slam into him, your pace pushing you closer and closer to release. Spencer’s eyes travel from your neck to your boobs, following the curves of your stomach until they flick back up to your face.

“Please let me touch you,” he begs, his hands twitching again.

You nod, giving him permission, his hands moving from your thighs to your boobs, taking a nipple between his fingers, pulling slightly. Your back arches and you groan, feeling your orgasm build inside of you. You choke Spencer harder, a strained gasp leaving him as one of his hands moves to your clit. He rubs it, eyes never leaving yours. He _wanted_ this—wanted you to finish before him. 

A few more strokes and you cry out, faltering as your thighs shake. Your pussy clenches tightly repeatedly around Spencer’s dick, feeling it twitch inside of you. Spencer thrusts up into you, and you don’t bother holding his hips down. Hands moving to your hips, he holds you in place, fucking you through your orgasm.

Your hand stays at his neck, a small whine leaving you, your pussy sensitive from the overstimulation. He takes in strained gasps, and you feel him start to falter.

“C-can I please cum?” He begs, his voice raspy.

“You’ve been so good,” you pant. “Be a good boy and cum inside of me.”

Your permission is all he needs—a string of high-pitched moans flying past his lips as he finishes inside you, holding your hips in place. You release his neck, watching him take raspy breaths in. His dick throbs inside of you and you let your body flop forward onto him, his arms wrapping around you. He trails his fingers up your back and you pant against his neck, sucking softly at the skin to leave a few hickeys.

“Jesus Christ.” Spencer’s voice vibrates his chest and you laugh against his neck.

“That was fun,” you say, kissing up his neck to his mouth. 

He smiles against your lips before kissing you sweetly. You sit up, climbing off of him. You wander into his bathroom to clean up before throwing on a pair of his sweatpants and his Caltech sweater. After a moment, Spencer joins you in his room.

“So you’re taking the job?”

“I’d like to.” You lay across his bed, yawning.

Spencer joins you, wrapping his arms around you. “You know I’m going to be worried about you all the time, right?”

“I know, love.” You lean up to kiss his jaw. “I’ll be the exact same way.”

“Let’s get through this fucking semester first,” he groans, shutting his eyes. “How are you doing in your classes?”

“Amazing, thanks for asking.”

“Are you ready for my pop quiz on Monday?” Spencer asks.

“You’re giving us a pop quiz? What is this, seventh grade?”

You’re generally a nervous person when talking to superiors—which is why, as you sit in SSA Aaron Hotchner’s office, you can’t seem to stop the shaking of your right leg. You had decided to take Hotch up on his offer in person, to show him you really mean business. 

His tall figure waltzes through the door and you stand, extending your hand. He shakes it before motioning you to sit down. 

“You wanted to see me?” 

You nod, meeting his eyes. “Yes, sir. I’ve decided I’d like to take the offer as an intern here at the BAU.”

Hotch smiles, a rare smile you’ve never seen. “Really? Well, I’m very happy to hear that.”

“I’m happy to be joining the team, sir.” 

Hotch hands you a packet in a manila folder. “This is all your paperwork you will need. Because of your grades and degrees, the Academy is cutting down your training to two months—specifically field and catered profile training.” He leans back in his chair. “I urge you to go ahead and start now, before you graduate. All of the information is in that paperwork.”

“Thank you, sir.” You stand, a stupid grin plastered to your face. “I appreciate it.”

“We’re happy to have you here.”

You shake his hand again and leave his office, spotting Penelope by the coffee pot in the bullpen. You beeline your way to her.

“Hi!”

She practically jumps out of her skin when she hears you, giving a little yelp as she turns around. Her face immediately relaxes when she sees it’s you.

“Oh my gosh, y/n, don’t sneak up on me!” She scolds.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, the paperwork in the crook of your arm.

She leans in, pushing her glasses up her nose a little. “I heard the news. Are you really joining the team?”

You laugh quietly. “Yes, hopefully by the end of the semester I will have an official internship here at the BAU with you all”

“Whoa, whoa, what’s with all the whispering?” 

You turn to see Derek walking up to the two of you. Garcia’s face lights up and he gives the two of you a lazy grin.

“We’re talking about how y/n is joining the team!”

Derek’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Is she?” 

“After graduation,” you say, giving an embarrassed smile.

“Well, you’ll definitely fit in here,” he says, wrapping an arm around Garcia. “Baby girl, can I steal you for a minute?”

“Sure thing, hot stuff.” Garcia smiles at you. “I’ll catch ya later, okay? Tell Reid I said hi.”

You nod and give them both a wave before heading out of the BAU. Clutching the files in your hand, you feel like all of the pieces are beginning to fall into place.

If only you knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love smut and foreshadowing!  
> Thank you all for the hits and kudos and comments, I love it. This story is also on Wattpad under the same username. :)  
> Tell me your theories on what's gonna happen!!!


	16. Who's In Charge?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer gives you a reminder and someone leaves some mail for you.

“Who can tell me what a stressor is?”

A cluster of hands raise around you, and you look at Spencer, his tall frame walking around his desk at the front of the room. His eyes flit around, looking at each of the students who had their hands up. Eventually, his eyes fall on you.

“Ms. Y/l/n, can you tell me what a stressor is?”

 _Of course I can_ , you think to yourself. _Let’s just try to not make it too obvious we’re dating, Spence._

“A stressor is anything that causes someone extreme tension or pain,” you state, folding your hands in front of you. 

“Can you give me an example?” Spencer leans against his desk.

You purse your lips, leaning back in your seat. “Any sort of major life change—getting fired from a job, getting past over for a position you really want, a death of a family member.”

Spencer nods, obviously pleased. “Very good.”

You smile, watching his eyes graze down your body. They catch yours, and you’re met with a look of adoration and amazement. After a moment, he retreats back behind his desk, shuffling his papers.

“Please read chapters nine and ten tonight. Next class, we’ll discuss psychosis and some personality disorders.” He stands at his full height, eyeing the class. “We’re nearing the end of the semester, so I advise you to take good notes and do your reading.” 

The class mumbles a mismatched “yes, sir,” as they pack up their stuff. You stay seated, pushing your notebook and human behavior book into your bag, watching the rest of the students file out the door. Spencer is leaning forward on his desk, hands spread as he reads over a file on his desk.

“You’re concentrating intensely, doctor.”

His head snaps up as you approach his desk, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He stands, closing the file and walking around to you. You look up at him, bodies almost touching. His fingers lightly rest on your hips, his mouth twisted up into a lazy smile.

“You have to stop targeting me in class,” you scold him, your hands trailing up his biceps.

His hands enclose around the small of your back. “I can’t help it. Who else is going to have all the right answers to my questions?”

“That’s called _teaching_ , Spence,” you explain, resting your hands on either side of his neck. “Not everyone is going to have the right answer.”

He groans, sighing. “I know.”

You glance toward the open door, removing your hands from him. He notices your glance and struts over to the door, shutting it. Walking back over to you, he brushes the hair off your neck, leaning down to ghost his lips over your skin. You inhale sharply, hands gripping his arms.

“S-Spence, we can’t,” you whisper, “not here.”

“You don’t like the thought of your professor fucking you over his desk?” 

His hands move to your ass, squeezing it as he pulls you closer to him. His erection presses against your stomach, his teeth grazing your earlobe. Spencer’s words go straight to your core, his low voice enough to make you wet.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes, I like that thought,” you stutter, eyes fluttering shut.

“You did a good job the other night—dominating me.” One of his hands trail up your back, gripping your hair. “But I think you need a reminder of who’s really in charge.” He punctuates his sentence with a tug of your hair, a moan escaping you.

He turns you around, his hand brushing against your lower stomach. You lean back against him, feeling him press his erection against your ass. He moves you to his desk, your hands pushing books and papers aside so you can lean against the top of it. His fingers move from your hair and trace down your spine. You shiver, a low chuckle coming from Spencer.

“Who’s in charge?” His fingers pull your shorts down, exposing your light gray panties. You know your wetness has already stained them, a dark spot evident as he spreads your legs.

“You are, sir,” you whisper, shuddering as his finger moves up your clothed slit.

His body presses against you, lips pressing against the back of your neck. His fingers work to unbuckle his belt, pushing his pants and underwear down, pushing your panties aside. You whine, squirming underneath him as he moves his dick up and down your wet slit, teasing you. 

“Don’t forget that.”

The feeling of his dick suddenly pushing into you makes you cry out, one of Spencer’s hands moving to your mouth, covering it. You moan against his hand, feeling him thrust deeply inside of you.

“Quiet, slut,” he pants against your neck. “We can’t let anyone hear us.”

His other hand snakes in your hair, pulling it hard enough for your face to look upward, his hand still attached to your mouth. His thrusts are deep and fast, your pussy clenching around him.

“Oh, fuck, you feel so good,” he moans quietly against your neck, sucking at the skin.

You mumble against his hand and he removes it, reaching down to rub your clit. He wants this to be fast—he doesn’t want to get caught. The thrill of getting caught makes your heart race, a small whimper leaving you as he rubs your clit. The combination of Spencer’s dick pushing inside of you and the stimulation of your clit pushes you over the edge.

“That’s right, cum on your professor’s dick. Do it quietly. You don’t get caught, do you?” Spencer’s grip tightens on your hair, his own breath coming in pants.

You bury your face in the crook of your arm, muffling your own moans as you cum around his dick, your pussy throbbing as your legs shake. His hand leaves your sensitive clit, nails dragging up and down your back as his thrusts falter. You feel his dick twitch inside of you, the familiar warm feeling of him spilling himself inside of you as he moans against the back of your neck. 

“Shit,” Spencer groans against your neck, his dick throbbing inside of you.

“T-thanks for the reminder,” you gasp out, trying to catch your breath.

He chuckles, pulling out of you. You stay against his desk, legs spread. He pushes his weight off of you, his hand still holding your hips down.

“Spence, what—“

Your words are cut off as his trails his tongue across your slit. His tongue pushes inside you, a quiet moan flying past your lips. He groans as he gathers both of your essences, tongue dipping in and out of you. After a moment, his tongue sweeps across your inner thighs before he stands, pulling up your panties and shorts.

“I don’t have any tissues or anything in here.” You stand up, turning around to face him. “I had to clean you up somehow.”

That cocky motherfucker. 

You laugh, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. He smiles against your mouth, pulling away to look at you. You run your fingers through his hair, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry I called you a slut,” he apologizes, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink.

“Don’t apologize, Spence,” you giggle. “You should do it more often.”

Spencer’s mouth flies open before he shuts it again. “I’m supposed to be getting dinner with the team tonight. Do you want to come? JJ is bringing Will, and—“

“I’d love to,” you interrupt him. “I have to go home after class first, but I can meet you at your place?”

“Alright, love,” he says, kissing your cheek.

You look at the time. “Well, safe to say I’m going to be late for my nine-thirty class.”

Walking into your dorm felt weird. You haven’t been here much as of late—too busy being at Spencer’s. When Jamie sees you walk through the door, she practically pounces, hugging you.

“Oh my god, how are you? How is Spencer? I’m guessing you guys’ relationship is going really well, I mean, you’re literally _never_ here and—“

“Slow down, speed racer,” you laugh, gripping Jamie’s shoulders.

Jamie catches her breath, a sheepish smile on her face. “Sorry, I just have so many questions!”

You catch Jamie up on you and Spencer—even mentioning the internship position you’re going to start with the BAU soon. Your field training and classes start later this week, the thought of them making you more and more nervous with each passing day. What if you fuck up and can’t join the BAU? 

“I’m so happy for you,” Jamie says, real and true admiration in her voice.

“How are you and…what’s his name, Kyle?” 

She blushes. “We’re good. He’s really sweet, actually.”

“He better be treating you well or I’ll beat him up,” you warn, grinning at her.

She chuckles and you stand, going into the kitchen to get some water. Jamie starts walking back to her room, stopping in the doorway.

“Oh, someone sent you some mail. I just left it on your bed.”

You thank her and go into your room, setting your book bag down and shutting your door. You sit on your bed, the room almost foreign to you after spending so many nights at Spencer’s. You glance at your bed, a medium size envelope sitting on your pillow. You adjust your position, sitting criss cross as you look at the back of the envelope. 

No return address. Just your name and your hall, and the university address. Furrowing your eyebrows, you open the envelope, reaching inside and taking out the contents.

Your breath catches in your throat, a wave of nausea crashing over you, your heartbeat picking up in your chest.

Pictures of you—candid pictures of you. Walking to class, leaving Spencer’s apartment, in your car, leaving the BAU. There were a couple dozen of them, the glossy images making your stomach turn as you look at them.

The pictures aren’t the most chilling part. That would be the note attached, scrawled in messy handwriting. 

_“You aren’t as smart as you think you are.”_

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooh, smut and mystery!  
> Thanks for the kudos y'all. :) I'd love some comments and feedback! A writer writing with no comments is like writing into the void.  
> Thanks :)


	17. Good Vibrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer takes you on an unconventional dinner date.

The small knife is cold on your fingertips, and you twist the sleek, metal object in your hands. Exhaling, you fold the switchblade, pushing the clip onto the back waistband of your jeans. It rests between the skin on your back and your waistband, hiding from public view. After the vaguely threatening message and photos you received last week, you bought the switchblade just in case.

Exiting the car, you walk up the stairs to Spencer’s apartment, unlocking his door with your key. Spencer had wanted to go to dinner tonight—he sounded excited on the phone, like he had something up his sleeve.

“Spence,” you call, shutting the door behind you, “I’m here!” 

“Bedroom!” He responds.

You walk to his room and set your purse down, Spencer almost falling over as he pulls his pants on and walks toward you at the same time.

“Slow down, speed racer, put your pants on!” You exclaim, laughing softly.

Spencer’s face burns a soft pink, standing up straight to button his black dress pants. A soft white button up is tucked into the pants, accompanied by a black tie.

“You look nice,” you admire, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“So do you.” He rests his hands on your lower back. You stiffen, not wanting him to feel the knife tucked in there. He notices.

“Are you okay?”

You hadn’t told Spencer about the message or pictures you received last week. He’s already stressed from work—you can tell by the darkening circles under his eyes and the way he practically never sleeps when he’s away on cases. You didn’t want to worry him, or make him even more stressed. It was probably nothing to worry about anyway.

 _That’s what you told yourself, at least_.

“I’m fine, love,” you assure him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Whether he believes you or not, you’re not sure. “You sounded excited on the phone.”

Spencer’s mouth twists into a smirk, releasing you and walking to his closet. He sinks to the ground, rummaging through his stuff for a moment before standing back up. Turning around, you see a small box in his hands.

“What’s that?” You sit on the edge of his bed, leaning back on your hands.

Spencer sits next to you, cheeks slightly flushed. “It’s a present. I’d like to use it tonight.”

“Spence, _what is it_?” 

He opens the box to reveal a small object in the shape of a “u”. On one end, it’s a small oval shape, the other side an almost flat plane. It clicks in your brain and you look at Spencer, surprise in your eyes.

“No way.”

“Please?” Spencer picks the vibrator up out of the box, fiddling with it in his fingers.

“You want me to wear that while we’re eating?” Your voice is a little squeak, heat flooding your cheeks.

His left hand rests on your thigh, squeezing it softly. “Yes. I think it would be…fun.”

“Fun for you,” you mutter, his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

“You don’t think vibrators are fun?” He asks, tilting his head.

“N-no—I mean, yes, I-I think they’re fun, but…” You eye the vibrator. “What if someone finds out?”

“It’s quit,” Spencer says, fingers tracing patterns on your thigh. “I promise no one will find out.” He spreads your legs apart slightly, finger tracing up your covered slit. “Besides, I want to see how well you can keep quiet while I make you cum underneath the table.”

You swallow, his touch and his words going straight to your core. You meet his puppy dog eyes, a hint of dominance and lust in them.

“Fine.”

He smiles brightly, flicking his tongue over his lips. You take the vibrator into the bathroom, pulling your pants down, taking the switchblade off your waistband. You slip the vibrator into your pussy, letting the other end rest flat against your clit. Pulling your panties and jeans up again, you walk back into Spencer’s room, slipping the switchblade into your purse. You don’t need it with Spencer around.

He looks up from the bed, smile widening as his eyes look down your body. “How’s it feel?”

You shift your weight, feeling the vibrator inside of you. “It’s not uncomfortable. A little weird feeling, but not uncomfy.”

“Good.” He stands, slipping the remote in his pants pocket. He laces his fingers in yours. “Number one rule tonight: no noise.”

“I’ll try, but Spence,” you squeeze his hand, “if it becomes too much, turn it off.”

“When’s too much?”

“Let’s tap out at three,” you say, pursing your lips.

“Three…?”

“Orgasms, Spence.”

His eyes widen and his face flushes, nodding sheepishly. “O-okay, three orgasms.”

You laugh and pull him in for a chaste kiss before grabbing your purse and heading to the door. He follows, locking the door behind you. Wrapping his arm around you, he leads you to his car, and you two climb inside.

The drive to the restaurant is silent, Spencer practically buzzing with excitement. You suspected Spencer has a small exhibitionism fetish—that proved true last week when he fucked you in his classroom. You aren’t against it; if anything, you’re more curious in exploring it.

He pulls into a parking spot, practically beaming at you as he gets out of the car. You get out, shutting the door, giving a small yelp as you feel the vibrator turn on.

 _This motherfucker wastes no time_.

The vibration is faint, obviously on the lowest setting. If you don’t think about it, it almost feels like it isn’t there. You walk over to Spencer, the friction of walking making the feeling a little more intense. He has a smirk on his face, cocking his head slightly.

“You alright there?” he asks, gesturing to your slightly funny walk.

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Grabbing his hand, he chuckles as you walk toward the restaurant, almost stopping in your tracks when you see Garcia and Morgan talking near the entrance. You look up at Spencer, mouth agape.

“What the _fuck_?” You whisper, gripping Spencer’s hand tighter.

“Oh, did I not mention Garcia and Morgan were coming?”

You grit your teeth as you feel the vibration bump up a notch, the feeling noticeable against your clit now. “ _No_ , that thought must’ve slipped your mind.”

His hand moves from yours to your lower back, sliding down to grip your ass as you walk. “Remember, no noise.” You bite down on your lip as he smacks your ass lightly before returning his hand to yours.

You smile at Garcia and Morgan as you approach them, Penelope immediately leaning in for a hug. You hug her back as Spencer tries, and ultimately fails, to fist bump Derek.

“I was happy when Spencer suggested we all go out,” Penelope bubbles. “We haven’t hung out just the four of us, well…ever.”

You grin at her, glancing over to Spencer. “Well, he’s full of good ideas.”

Spencer gives you a knowing smile and the four of you head into the restaurant. It’s a small Italian place with a warm atmosphere, tables and booths scattered around. The hostess leads you all to a small booth in the back, Spencer sliding in next to you. 

“So, are you excited about joining the BAU?” Derek asks, looking over the menu. 

The vibration increases slightly and you grit your teeth, stifling a moan. “Yeah, I’m really excited to get started.”

“She had her first training classes last week,” Spencer says, smiling at you.

“Honey, that’s amazing!” Penelope squeals, a huge smile on her face. “We can be like, work bff’s!”

You smile at her. “Yes! We need a cool bff team name, though.”

The waitress comes over and sets some bread down on the table, taking your drink orders. You order a water and a glass of white wine, knowing you’re going to need some alcohol to get you through this dinner. You go to take a bite of bread and feel the vibration on your clit increase, a gasp slipping out of you.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, tearing apart a breadstick and shoving the pieces in his mouth.

Your hand finds Spencer’s thigh under the table and you squeeze, nails digging into his pants. “Yeah, the bread is just really good.”

The vibration is almost hard to ignore now, the constant pressure on your clit causing a knot to grow in your stomach. You try to steady your breathing, focusing on squeezing Spencer’s thigh as a distraction. The waitress comes back with drinks and takes your food order; you settle on chicken and cheese ravioli, the first thing you see when you look at the menu.

“Did you hear Rossi’s coming back from his trip?”

“Who’s Rossi?” You manage to ask, biting the inside of your cheek.

“He works for the BAU,” Penelope explains. “He’s been on a trip for a couple months, writing a new book.”

“Wait, _David_ Rossi?”

“You know him?” Spencer asks, his hand slipping into his pocket to turn up the vibrator.

You lean back in your chair, squeezing your thighs together. “N-no, I’ve just read some of his books.”

The knot tightens in your stomach, your grip on Spencer’s thigh tightening. You feel yourself on the edge, and you take a sip of wine to stifle a moan threatening to escape. You pretend to focus on the conversation, trying to steady your breathing as Spencer turns it up another notch.

You meet Spencer’s eyes briefly as he pushes you over the edge, legs shaking slightly, your breathing a little shallow. Surprisingly, you don’t make a sound, your nails digging into Spencer’s thigh so hard it’s a wonder you don’t rip his pants as you cum. If Garcia and Morgan notice anything, they don’t mention it. 

Spencer turns the vibrator off, giving you a small break as you come down from your high—just in time for the food to arrive. You release Spencer’s thigh, stomach growling.

“So, how long’s your training gonna be?” Morgan asks, taking a sip of his beer.

“I think I’ll finish right after graduation,” you tell him, taking a bite of your ravioli.

“And Hotch is okay with you two…”

“We’re not going into the field together,” you and Spencer speak in unison. You catch each other’s eye and give a sheepish grin.

Penelope grins, readjusting the pink flower in her hair. “I just can’t wait!” She gasps, a sudden realization hitting her. “You get to come to our girls nights now!!! Emily and JJ will be so happy to have another girl in the group. It’s basically testosterone city in the BAU.”

You giggle, taking a sip of your wine. “I can’t wait.”

You glance at Spencer as the vibrator turns back on suddenly, thighs clenching together. Your clit is still sensitive and he smirks, going to rest his hand on your thigh. You bite your lip, the vibration feeling more intense than it did before.

Spencer asks Derek some question about a case they had a few weeks ago, and you look down, eyes landing on the noticeable bugle in Spencer’s pants. This is turning him _on_?

 _Two can play at this game, Spencer_. 

Your hand moves to his upper thigh, tracing up to his crotch. He stiffens, words faltering slightly as you brush your fingers up his covered erection. The vibration turns up and you jolt, coughing to cover up a moan.

“This was so fun,” Garcia says as the waitress lays the check down. “We need to do this again.”

You palm Spencer’s dick through his pants, trying not to grin too wide as he sucks in a sharp breath, his dick twitching underneath your hand. “We _definitely_ have to do this again.”

“Maybe next time we can go to a bar or a club,” Morgan says, draining the last of his beer. “I wanna dance on some honeys, y’know what I’m saying?”

He holds up his hand for a high five from Spencer. Spencer removes his hand from your thigh, giving Morgan a half-hearted high five as he cranks the vibrator up to max.

You bite your lip so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t draw blood. Your touch falters on Spencer’s crotch, breath hitching in your throat as you cum again. You suppress moans, this orgasm a little more intense than the last one. Spencer’s hand returns to your thigh, squeezing it as he turns the vibrator down. You give yourself a moment, focusing your attention on your wine glass, draining the last of it as you come down from your orgasm.

“You look hot,” Garcia notices, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. “You good?”

“It’s just hot in here,” you mutter, giving her a half smile as you press your hand onto Spencer’s crotch. You feel his body twitch underneath your touch slightly.

“Let’s go outside, it _is_ a little hot in here,” Spencer says, voice a little strained.

You stand, noticing the way Spencer adjusts himself so no one can see his boner. You grab his hand and he grips it tightly as you walk out of the restaurant. The air is cool, feeling nice on your flushed skin.

“So, I’ll see you at work on Monday, sweet cheeks,” Garcia says to Spencer, causing him to turn a deeper shade of red.

“Y-yeah, of course.”

“Come on, baby girl, let’s leave the couple to their devices,” Morgan says, giving you a small hug and fist bumping Spencer again.

Garcia hugs you and they wave goodbye. Spencer practically drags you to his car, his grip tight on your hand. You get inside and glance at him, his eyes already on yours..

“So, that—“

His lips crash against yours, cutting off your sentence. He twists his fingers in your hair, tugging slightly, a moan leaving you. He pulls away, eyes dark.

“I can’t believe you teased me,” he whispers, moving your hands to rest on his crotch. “It was…very frustrating.”

“You liked it, Spence.” Your fingers work to undo the button on his pants, unzipping them.

He pulls them down, his erection tenting his boxers. You lightly run your fingers over it, a small groan leaving him. He pushes them down, letting his hard length rest against his stomach.

You shift your position, resting on your knees in the passenger seat. His hand stays in your hair as you lean over, licking a line up his shift.

“Fuck,” he groans, bucking his hips as you swirl your tongue around the head. “P-please stop teasing me, it was hard enough to watch you cum in public and not be able to do anything about it.”

“You could’ve done _something_ , Dr. Reid,” you tease, taking the tip of his dick in your mouth.

“Like what, fuck you on the table in front of my friends?” His voice is breathy, hips raising to push more of his dick in your mouth.

You oblige, lowering your head to take more of him inside your mouth. Spencer exhales slowly, a long moan leaving him as his eyes flutter shut, head leaning back against the seat. You take him deeper each time, making sure to swirl your tongue around his head every time you come back up.

“God, yes,” Spencer groans, his voice a small whine. “You’re such a good girl.”

You moan at his praise, the moan growing louder as you feel the vibrator turn on again. Your pussy is already throbbing, and Spencer adjusts himself, holding your hair with his left hand and letting his right hand roam to your ass, squeezing it.

He turns it up, your thighs clenching together as you take him deeper, his dick twitching in your mouth. He’s close, you can tell. He spanks you, the impact not as forceful with your jeans in the way.

His hand snakes under you, spreading your legs apart slightly to press the vibrator harder on your clit, your movements faltering as ecstasy runs through you. In a matter of seconds, you’re putty in Spencer Reid’s hands, unraveling in front of him as he pushes your head down. He doesn’t ease up as he finishes, moans tumbling passed his lips as his dick throbs in your mouth.

After a moment, you let his dick fall out of your mouth, hips jerking slightly from the sensitivity. 

“S-Spencer.”

“Oh, fuck, sorry.”

He turns the vibrator off, a sheepish grin on his face as you sit up. The two of you catch your breath, and he pulls you in for a deep kiss before releasing you.

“I love you, y’know.”

“I love you, too, Spence.”

He turns on the car and you sit back, buckling your seatbelt as he begins the drive back to his place.

Your alarm goes off at 5:30 am, and you groan as you open your eyes. Spencer’s arm tightens around you and you smile, turning around to kiss him on his cheek.

“I have to go, love, I have training.” 

He sighs, eyes fluttering open. “I know, but I don’t wanna let you go.”

“I’ll be back, I promise,” you whisper, kissing his lips this time.

He lets you get up and you dress in a pair of athletic leggings and a work out top that’s too big for you, tying up your tennis shoes. You brush your teeth and throw your hair in a bun before walking over to your purse. You take the switchblade out, resting it in the same spot between the skin of your lower back and the waistband of your legs.

Walking over to Spencer again, you cover his face with kisses, a small, child-like giggle leaving him. You whisper _”I love you’s”_ before grabbing your purse and heading out the door, locking it behind you.

It’s still dark out as you make your way to your car, hitting the unlock button as you approach it. Opening the door of the backseat, you throw your purse it.

“Y/n.”

You turn around, eyes widening as you see who’s standing in front of you. “Wha—“

A sharp pain prickling across your skull is the last sensation you feel before your world goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh, the drama.   
> Reader gets kidnapped! I wonder who kidnaps her, hmmm.  
> Thank y'all for your comments and kudos, I absolutely love reading them. :)


	18. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer and his team race to find you.   
> !!TW!!: blood, guns, knives.

Spencer’s POV

“How’s everything in lovey dovey land?” 

Spencer rolls his eyes, turning his body to Prentiss. “Everything is fine in, uh, _lovey dovey land_.”

Emily giggles, straightening some files on her desk. “Are you excited she’s coming to work here?”

Spencer can’t help the wide smile forming on his face. “I am. I’m a little nervous for her, but I think she’ll be a great fit here.”

Emily opens her mouth to speak but never gets the chance. 

“Spencer, can I see you in my office, please?” Hotch’s voice was quiet, tall figure appearing next to Spencer’s desk.

Spencer knits his eyebrows and stands. “S-sure.”

He follows Hotch into his office, a bundle of nerves forming in his stomach. He’s certain Hotch isn’t going to talk to him about his performance—he’s been pretty exemplary on cases lately. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Spencer was always a little worried Hotch was going to rescind his offer to y/n. It wouldn’t be Hotch’s fault either—just the bureau not wanting to take a chance on such a fresh face. 

Spencer takes a seat in front of Hotch’s desk, Hotch leaning back in his seat. 

“Is everything alright with y/n?”

Confusion flashes in Spencer’s eyes. “Y-yes, I saw her leave this morning for training. Why do you ask?”

“She never showed up for training.”

Dread settles in the bottom of Spencer’s stomach. “What do you mean she never showed up?”

Hotch leans forward, folding his hands together on his desk. “Agent Harrow reported she never showed up to physical training, and Agent Carroway just informed me that she missed her interrogation training.”

“Hotch, I _saw_ her leave. S-she was worried about being late. She _left_.” 

Spencer pulls out his phone, hitting her contact number and pushing the phone to his ear. The phone immediately goes to voicemail.

_”Hi, obviously I can’t come to the phone right now…”_

He tries again, eyes downcast, settling on the corner of Hotch’s desk. It goes straight to voicemail again, her voice washing over him in the worst way possible.

The dread begins to turn to panic as Spencer drops his phone onto Hotch’s desk, meeting Hotch’s gaze with wide eyes. His breathing turns heavy, his heartbeat in his ears.

“No, no, no, no, no, not again.” Spencer’s voice is rising, hands curling into fists as he stands. “H-Hotch, I can’t do this again—I can’t lose someone I lo—“

“Spencer, slow down.” Hotch stands, walking around to Spencer, resting his hands on his shoulders. “We will find her. She might not even be missing.”

“Hotch, she didn’t show up for training—which she’s taking so seriously, it’s insane. She didn’t answer my calls. She _never_ misses one of my calls.” Spencer’s voice is thick, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. “Something happened to her.”

Hotch’s brown eyes search Spencer’s and he exhales slowly, nodding. “I’ll gather the team. Meet us in the roundtable room. Take a moment to collect yourself.”

Spencer nods, taking in a deep breath as Hotch leaves his office. A million thoughts are running through Spencer’s head—none of them optimistic. He grips the edge of Hotch’s desk, taking in a few deep breaths before grabbing his phone and slipping it back into his pocket. He opens the door and slowly walks to the roundtable room, feeling uncomfortable when every member of the team’s eyes lands on him—Rossi included. It’s his first day back today.

He sits down, glancing around the room at each of his friend’s faces. 

“JJ, go ahead.”

JJ clears her throat, obviously uncomfortable. “U-um, missing person is Y/n Y/l/n. Twenty-six. Originally from Gatlinburg, Tennessee, but moved to Virginia when she was eighteen to go to school. Her father’s name is Joseph Y/l/n. She has one degree in sociology, and is in the process of getting her second degree in psychology—she’s set to graduate in two months. Hotch recently gave her an internship with the BAU. She was last seen at…” JJ trails off, looking at Spencer.

“My apartment.” Spencer’s voice is a raspy croak. “She left my apartment at six this morning to go to training. She never made it.”

The room was silent for a moment before Rossi speaks up.

“Spencer, do you know if she has any enemies? Someone who doesn’t like her?” 

Spencer shakes his head, his mind a jumbled mess. “She never said anything that would point to someone disliking her. She, um, doesn’t have many friends. She doesn’t talk to many people.”

“We know the statistics,” Morgan whispers. “Ninety percent of missing women are killed within the first thirty-six hours.”

“Derek,” Garcia hisses, giving him a swift slap on the arm. “Why would you say that?”

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispers. “I just…please. We need to find her.”

The group collectively remembers the last time they were in a position like this—someone Spencer cares for getting kidnapped. And they remembered how it ended. This time, they’re aiming for a better ending.

“Reid, Morgan, Rossi, go to Spencer’s apartment complex. See if her car is still in the parking lot. Chances are, she never even made it to the vehicle.”

Spencer swallows the lump in his throat and stands, his body on autopilot as he begins to walk to the front of the building. Prentiss grabs his arm and he turns to her, a discernible look on his face. 

“Reid,” she speaks softly, “we _will_ find her.”

He nods and she squeezes his arm before releasing it. Spencer quickly walks to the SUV, Morgan and Rossi trailing behind him. He climbs into the backseat, silent, looking down at his hands. The drive to his apartment complex is quiet, Morgan and Rossi exchanging small glances from the front. They park the SUV at the front of Spencer’s apartment, getting out swiftly.

“There are specific spots for visitors to park in,” Spencer explains, biting the inside of his cheek. “They’re not near where I can park so…if her car is still here, I didn’t notice this morning.” 

“That’s not your fault, Reid,” Rossi says. “Let’s go to the lot.”

The group walks the short distance to the visitor spaces, running parallel to the apartment owner spaces. Spencer’s blood runs cold as he sees her car—a black Nissan Altima. The back door wasn’t closed all the way, the straps of the purse hanging out of the backseat. 

“So she gets to her car,” Morgan says, glancing around, “and she opens the back door. Throws her purse inside…”

“And the unsub surprises her.” Rossi finishes Morgan’s sentence. “Look.”

He bends down next to a small splatter of blood. Spencer’s stomach turns, and he looks away, unable to look at it. Bile rises in his throat, goose bumps running over his skin.

“The unsub subdues her and leaves with her.” Derek stands, looking at the empty space next to her car. “Presumably in a vehicle. It’s possible he was parked right next to her.”

Spencer turns around, closing his eyes. He massages the bridge of his nose with his fingers, exhaling slowly, trying to ease the panic. Despite his efforts, it stays constant within him, a knot in the pit of his stomach.

Morgan’s hand on his shoulder makes him jump. “Hey, kid. We’ll find her.”

“We should check her dorm,” Spencer simply says, starting the walk back to the SUV. 

Rossi and Morgan exchange a glance before following him. Spencer climbs into the driver’s seat, starting the car.

“Reid, do you think it’s a good idea for—“

“I’m driving.” The tone is Spencer’s voice is final, one he only uses when he’s angry or stressed.

Morgan climbs in the back, Rossi in the front. Spencer’s left leg shakes as he drives, fingers tapping the steering wheel. The ride passes in silence.

Morgan’s phone rings and he answers.

“Yeah, Hotch?” He listens, nodding. “We’re on our way. We’ll meet you two there.” He hangs up. “Hotch and Prentiss are already at her dorm; they’re going to wait for us to question the roommate.”

Spencer nods, exhaling deeply through his nose.

“I missed a lot while I was gone,” Rossi muses, looking over at Spencer. 

Spencer nods. “You did.”

“I look forward to meeting her, Spencer.”

Spencer swallows, inhaling deeply. “If we find her.”

“We _will_ find her.”

Spencer pulls in front of y/n’s apartment, turning it off quickly. “That’s what we said about Maeve. And she’s dead.” His voice is cold, but Rossi and Morgan know it isn’t a coldness directed at them—it’s directed at Spencer himself. 

The three of them enter Cherry Hall, Spencer leading them to room 17. The door is unlocked, and Spencer opens it, revealing Hotch and Prentiss sitting on the couch next to a blonde woman. Spencer recognizes her—y/n’s roommate, the one he saw at the bar the night he met her. She looks like she’s been crying. 

“Jamie, this is Agent Morgan, Agent Rossi, and Dr. Reid.” Hotch stands, gesturing to the individuals.

Jamie’s eyes land on Spencer. “Dr. Reid? Y/n’s boyfriend?”

Spencer smiles softy, nodding. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You, too. She’s told me a lot about you.”

“All good, I hope,” Spencer says, a smile crossing Jamie’s face.

“Yeah, all good.”

“So, Jamie, when’s the last time you saw your roommate?” Hotch asks, his voice soft.

Jamie sighs, biting her lip. “Last week, I think. She, uh, came home to get some clothes. She doesn’t hang out here much, y’know, because of…” She gestures to Spencer. “She comes here a couple times a week to get clothes or whatever.”

“Did she seem off?” Prentiss asks.

Spencer had left the group, walking around the small kitchen area, looking around.

“Off?”

“Was she acting weird or strange?” 

Jamie shakes her head. “Not really.”

“I’m going to look in her room,” Spencer says.

“I’ll come with you.” Morgan walks over to Spencer, trailing him.

Spencer opens the door to her room, biting his cheek. Her room looks normal—like it had every time he had seen it. Her bed was messy, dirty clothes in her laundry basket, books on her desk. His Caltech sweater was strewn across her bed. He runs his hand across the fabric, a million feelings running through him at once. He remembers the last time he’d seen her in this sweater—in his apartment, reading a book on his bed. 

“Reid, you need to see this.”

Morgan’s voice jolts Spencer from his thoughts and he turns abruptly toward Morgan. He’s standing at her desk, holding something in his hands. He walks over slowly, eyes scanning the contents of the desk.

Spencer gasps when he sees the pictures—glossy images of y/n. Pictures of her leaving class, leaving his apartment, pictures of _her_. His stomach turns as he looks through them. They were all taken from a distance, all candid pictures, all of them unknown to her. 

“That’s not all.” Morgan’s voice is soft.

He holds up a small piece of paper, Spencer scanning over the words, lips parting.

“’You’re not as smart as you think you are,’” he quotes, panic coursing through his veins. He furrows his brows, breathing heavy. “She…she never told me about this.”

“Reid…I don’t think she told anyone.”

Spencer turns around and exits her room quickly, coming face to face with Prentiss and Hotch. They look concerned, and Morgan gestures for them to come to him. Spencer pushes past the two of them, sitting on the couch next to Jamie.

“Did y/n have any enemies?” He asks, eyes searching hers. “Anyone who didn’t like her or saw her as a threat?”

Rossi stands next to the couch, eyes fixed on Spencer. “Reid, what did you find in her room?”

“Pictures,” Hotch speaks, walking back into the living room. “Pictures and a threat.”

Jamie knit her eyebrows together, eyes on the floor. “I…I don’t think she did. I mean…” Suddenly, her eyes widen, landing on Spencer. 

“Who?” He asks, desperate for any sort of information that can point him to her.

“Y/n and I took a class last year,” Jamie explains, lacing her fingers together. “It was Victimology. We, um, sat front row next to a girl named Lena.” She inhaled slowly, glancing at each of the faces around the room. “Lena’s going into the same field y/n is.”

“Profiling,” Prentiss says, crossing her arms.

Jamie nods. “Y/n is smart. She studies all the time, but you know that.” She juts her chin up at Spencer, and he nods. “She didn’t even have to try in the class. No matter how hard Lena tried, y/n always one-upped her. Y/n made better grades, was on better terms with the professor, the star student really. Lena didn’t like that.” 

“She was jealous,” Morgan states, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Yeah, she was jealous. She was a year older than y/n—so she graduated that semester. I remember toward the end of the semester, Lena got into a big fight with y/n—we all had a project assigned together.”

“What was the fight about?” Hotch asks, squatting down next to Spencer.

“Lena…she basically said she was smarter than y/n, that she would join the BAU before her. Nothing would stand in Lena’s way.” Jamie shakes her head, disbelief lacing her voice. “I never thought she would…try to hurt her.”

Spencer put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Thank you. You helped us a lot. I promise, we’ll find her.”

Jamie meets Spencer’s eyes. “Wherever she is, I know she’s waiting for you to find her.”

Spencer stands, looking at the team. “We need to get back. I need to talk to Garcia.”

Half an hour later, the team is back at BAU headquarters. Spencer and Hotch depart from the group, basically storming Garcia’s office.

“Master of all knowledge, what can I do for you today?” Garcia says as they enter her room, Spencer gnawing at the inside of his cheek.

“Garcia, I need you to look up recent applicants to the FBI Academy and the bureau.” Hotch props himself up by her desk, hands gripping the edge. “Acceptances, failures, people who barely pass classes. Specifically, a girl named Lena.”

“Hotch, what are you—“

“Her name, Reid,” Hotch cuts Spencer off. “The name Lena…I’ve seen it somewhere before.”

Garcia taps on her keyboard for a moment before reading her screen. “I’ve got a Lena Brooks. She applied to the FBI Academy last August. She did so-so in her classes and training—definitely not high grades.” Garcia’s breath catches in her throat. “She applied to the BAU a couple weeks ago...but was denied.”

Hotch closes his eyes, exhaling. “Let me guess—denied the same time I offered the position to y/n.”

“That would be correct, sir.” 

Spencer looks at Hotch. “So...she kidnaps y/n for revenge? To show that she’s smarter than her.”

“Do you have an address, Garcia?” Hotch asks.

“Yeah, uh, seven twenty-five Chestnut Street. It looks like she lives with her mom.”

“So she won’t be at her place,” Spencer muses. “She would take y/n somewhere close, somewhere of significance—somewhere where she can’t be heard.”

Garcia types frantically, tilting her head. “Lena currently works as an assistant for a firm in downtown. They, uh, they have some storage units off site near her house.”

“Text us the address,” Spencer says, already halfway out the door.

Hotch catches Spencer’s shoulder on their way to the team. “Can I trust you if you come into the field with us? Can I trust your judgment?”

Spencer meets Hotch’s gaze with a steely intensity. “Yes.”

Hotch searches Spencer’s face for any sign of a lie, a tell—but finds nothing. After a moment, he releases his grip on his shoulder. “Go grab a vest. We leave in five.”

Your POV

The first signs of consciousness register as soon as the headache hits, eyes slowly opening. Your vision is blurry, the whole world melting together as you try to grasp your bearings. You go to rub your eyes but stop as you feel a sharp pain around your wrists. If you have to guess—fishing line or razor wire. Your ankles are unrestrained, but you can’t seem to focus, the sharp pain prickling across your forehead.

“Good, you’re awake. Finally.”

A familiar female voice rings out around you, your vision adjusting to the figure in front of you. Her voice echoes on the walls—either made of some sort of metal or concrete. You groan softly, blinking a couple times as your vision adjusts.

The silhouette in front of you is one you recognize. “L-Lena?” 

“Oh, so the almighty y/n recognizes me,” she sneers, twirling a knife around her fingers.

 _Not yours_ , you notice, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Of…of course I recognize you,” you muster, licking your chapped lips. “You were one of the smartest people in our Victimology class."

“Hmph, no, _you_ were the smartest.” She stalks closer to you, gripping the knife in her hand.

She grips the edge of the metal chair you’re sitting in, the metal burning into your skin. She traces the knife over your forehead and down your cheek, surely leaving a red line down your face. Lena smirks, the knife dropping to your shoulder, cutting through the fabric to your skin. You inhale sharply, not making a sound.

“W-what do you want?” You ask her, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

Lena drags the knife to your bicep, making a long gash. “I want to prove I’m smarter than you. I…I worked so hard in school and in the Academy…”

You bite down on your lip as she moves the knife back up to your forehead, making a gash from the right side down to the corner of your eye. “You…you wanted to join the BAU.”

Her lips curl up into a snarl. “The BAU…what a joke. They can’t recognize potential when they see it.” She stands, gaze full of steel. “I can’t believe they rejected me. ME!” Her grip tightens on the knife. “And they hire _you_.”

You focus beyond her, trying to get your bearings. You’re in a large room, boxes scattered around you. A hallway leads down a corridor to your left, presumably to a door. The ceiling is high, made of aluminum or steel, fluorescent lights beaming down onto you. The light is harsh, messing with your fuzzy vision. You’re in…a shed? A storage unit? An abandoned building?

 _Spencer, please hurry,_ you think, feeling the warmth of blood trickling down your arm and face.

“You,” she sneers, running the knife harshly across your collarbone. “You’re always so much better, aren’t you? Smarter, more studious, just full of _wisdom_.” Her words drip with sarcasm and you flinch.

“Lena…I—I never meant to…to take anything away from you,” you stutter, taking deep breaths to steady your beating heart.

“But you did!” She practically shouts. “You took the job at the BAU from me! I’m so tired of you taking shit away from me!” The knife hovers near your neck, her eyes never leaving yours.

A large bang resonates off the walls, a door hitting a wall, the sound of multiple footsteps ringing through the room. She moves behind you, knife clattering out of her hand. You hear the cock of a gun, her left hand gripping your shoulder. Your breathing accelerates as the BAU team comes into view—Spencer, Hotch, Morgan, Prentiss, and someone you don’t recognize—most likely David Rossi—all dressed in bulletproof vests and guns. Spencer’s eyes find yours and you meet them, trying to suppress the growing lump in your throat. A look of relief flashes through his eyes—you’re alive. He needed to know you were alive.

“Don’t come closer!” Lena screams, pushing the barrel of the gun to the side of your head. “I’ll shoot her; I swear I will.”

Hotch keeps his gun raised. “Lena, drop the gun. We don’t want to hurt you.”

Lena’s grip tightens on your shoulder. “Are you sure about that, Agent Hotchner?”

Hotch nods. “I remember your application, Lena. You’re smart—smarter than this.”

The pressure of the gun eases from your temple. “You…you think I’m smart?”

Hotch steps forward, lowering his gun a little. “I looked over your application, Lena. You’re a very impressive person.”

“I am?” Lena removes her hand from your shoulder, walking around the chair to the front of you. 

You move your hands to the waistband of your pants, praying she hadn’t disarmed you before tying you up. You wince as the fishing line digs into your skin, breath catching in your throat as your fingers enclose around the switchblade in your pants. You catch Spencer’s eye.

 _Keep her talking_ , you mouth to him, slowly flicking the blade open with your fingers.

“Why did you reject me then?” Lena’s voice is cold, gun pointed at Hotch.

“We didn’t,” Spencer replies, voice earnest. “We want you to come work for us, Lena.”

Your knife snaps the fishing line, freeing your hands. Blood trails down your wrists, the cuts stinging. You stand, legs a little wobbly. Slowly, you make your way to Lena.

"You...you do? Really?"

She gasps as she feels the cold metal of the knife you're holding, pressing it to her throat. 

“Give me the gun.” Your voice is cold—you’ve never heard it like this before. Void of emotion. 

Lena’s body stiffens, the whole team’s eyes on the two of you. The gun shakes in her hand and you press the knife down.

“Lena, I don’t want to hurt you,” your voice is low, “but right now, you’re aiming a gun at my future team. If your finger so much as _twitches_ on that trigger, I will kill you.” Spencer’s eyes meet yours, an unreadable emotion in them. “Give. Me. The. Gun.” You know if they shoot Lena, the bullet will go straight through her and into you. You’d rather take your chances with her. 

Slowly, Lena drops her arm, the gun still in her hand. The team tenses as you wrap your fingers around the barrel of the gun, still holding the knife to Lena’s throat. In a split second, hell breaks loose. A loud bang splits through the room, a searing pain spreading through your thigh, and the whole team seems to move at once.

Despite the pain, you tug the gun out of Lena’s hands, stumbling backward into the wall. You hold the gun up, arms bent, never taking your eyes off of her. Hotch and Morgan had filled the room with the words _“don’t shoot”_ , the team obliging. Hotch holsters his gun, running over to Lena and shoving her against the wall, cuffing her hands behind her back.

Spencer and Morgan run over to you, Morgan immediately coaxing the gun out of your hands. You sink to the ground, the pain in your thigh spreading through your body. Spencer holsters his gun, kneeling down beside you.

“We need an ambulance out front and a stretcher in here!” Morgan says into the mic clipped to his vest. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he murmurs, loosening his tie and wrapping it around your upper thigh. Slow tears are falling down his eyes, his voice breaking.

“S-Spence…” you mutter, your hands finding his. Your voice is a whisper. “You found me.”

“Of course, love, of course I found you.” He squeezes your hands, wiping away the blood that had trailed over one of your eyes.

Your eyes start to flutter shut, the pain almost too much. Spencer’s voice rings out around you, begging you to stay with him. The world is a blur, figures around you, lifting you up onto a cold surface, fluorescents whizzing past you through the hallway. The pain becomes too much, though, and the last thing you hear is Spencer telling you he loves you as you blackout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omgggg, what an intense chapter. But, alas, our reader is safe!  
> Thank you all for the kudos and comments, I love them so much!


	19. Taking Care of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You explore the aftermath of your kidnapping.

The light is bright—stinging your eyes as they flutter open. Your vision is blurry, a constant, high-pitch beeping almost annoying to your ears. Groaning, pain shoots through your body. It’s in your head, your shoulders, your arms—but most of all, your left thigh. It almost feels like it’s on fire.

“Ouch.”

Your voice is low and scratchy, and your eyes finally focus on your body in front of you. An IV is in your right arm, a blanket over your body minus your left leg, a hospital gown lightly touching your skin. You feel a hand on yours and you raise your head slightly to see who it is, wincing as the pain intensifies. 

Spencer is sleeping, his head pressed into the crook of his right arm next to your right thigh, his left hand holding yours. Your mind suddenly catches up with reality, thoughts slamming into you like a train.

A metal chair. Fishing line. A knife across your skin. Blood. Lena. The BAU rescue. Getting shot in the leg. Blacking out.

“Fuck, I got shot.”

Your words are loud enough to stir Spencer, his head shooting up like he’d heard his name being called. He inhales sharply, squeezing your hand.

“Oh my god, you’re awake!”

You flinch at his loud voice and he blushes, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Sorry.” He lowers his voice, scooting his chair closer to your bed.

“Hey, love,” you croak, leaning your head back on your pillow. 

“Hi,” he whispers, both hands going to squeeze your right one. “How do you feel?”

“I feel great,” you reply. “I could demolish the FBI field test right now.”

He smiles, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Ha, jokes, funny.”

“At least I’m not dead.”

Spencer is quiet, his gaze lowering. “You could have been, though.”

“Spence—“

“Why didn’t you tell me about the threat?” His voice isn’t accusing, more hurt. “Do you…do you not trust me?”

You shake your head, grimacing from the pain. “Of course I trust you.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” His hazel eyes meet yours, big and unyielding, trying to understand.

You sigh, the rush of air leaving your lungs quickly. “You…you’re so stressed, Spence. All the time. You don’t sleep much. I couldn’t…I couldn’t put this on your plate. I would’ve just been another thing for you to worry about.” You avert your gaze, focusing instead on the white bandage wrapped around your left thigh.

Spencer is quiet for a moment before he speaks. “Hey. Look at me.” You meet his gaze, eyes full of concern and love. “You can tell me _anything_. Yes, my job is stressful. Yes, I might have insufferable insomnia right now. Do you know what I care about more, though? _You_. I will never be too busy, too tired, too stressed, too _whatever_ for you.” He reaches his left hand to your cheek, brushing against it softly, careful to avoid the bandage slapped across the cut on it. “I love you.”

His words bring tears to your eyes and you lean into his hand. “I love you, too.”

When he speaks again, his voice is thick. “I could’ve lost you yesterday. I _almost_ lost you.” His voice breaks and he looks down, focusing on his hands. “I…I could’ve never forgiven myself if you had died.”

“I didn’t die.” You break your hand away from his and tilt his chin up to look at you. “I’m alive. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” You grin slyly. “It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a crazy woman and a gunshot to the thigh to take me out, Spence.”

He laughs softly, pulling his hand away from your face. “I’ll call the nurse in. She needs to know you’re awake.”

He presses the call button and a few seconds later, a brunette nurse walks in, a smile on her face.

“Well, look who’s finally awake. Thanks for joining us.”

You smile at her. “Glad to be here.”

“How’s your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

You grimace slightly. “A seven. My thigh and my head hurt the most.”

“Alright, well we’ll give you something for the pain, okay?”

You nod, your glance drifting over to Spencer. “Don’t give me too much, please. Just enough to make me comfortable.”

She nods and pushes something into your IV. Seconds later, a numb feeling washes over you, the pain in your body dulling. You sigh, squeezing Spencer’s hand.

“Can I tell your friends in the lobby they can come see you?” The nurse asks.

You furrow your brow. “Friends?”

“The team,” Spencer whispers. “They’ve been here all night.”

A light smile plays on your lips. “Really?”

Spencer nods. “They were worried.”

You look at the nurse. “I’d love to see them.”

She turns on her heels and leaves, leaving you and Spencer alone. His thumb traces small circles into your hand, his hazel eyes looking at your thigh. He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses it softly, almost like if he applies too much pressure, you’ll shatter into pieces.

“Hello, beautiful angel!” 

Garcia’s voice pulls your attention to the door, the team filing into the room one by one. Penelope moves to your immediate left side, resting her hand on your arm. 

“I would hug you, but…” She gestures to the IV and your beaten body. 

“I’m glad you’re awake,” Hotch says from the foot of the bed.

You give him a small smile. “Me, too.”

Rossi makes his way next to Spencer, extending a hand. “My name is David Rossi; it’s nice to finally meet you.”

You take his hand in yours, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” He smiles a warm smile and rests his hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

You look up at the team, biting the inside of your cheek. “Did you…you arrested Lena, right?”

Morgan nods. “We did.”

“She was pretty pissed when she found out she wouldn’t be working with the BAU, though,” Emily says, a smile on her face, arms folded. 

“That was a good call, Reid,” Hotch says. “Making her believe she had gotten accepted to work with us.”

“It’s what she always wanted,” you whisper, exhaling slowly. “I’m…I’m sorry for putting you all in that position.”

“This wasn’t your fault.” Spencer squeezes your hand. 

“Spencer’s right.” Morgan leans forward, both hands resting on the bed. “Don’t beat yourself up about this.”

You stare at the hospital blanket, staying silent. In reality—this _was_ your fault. If you had told Spencer, or Hotch, or _anyone_ , the whole situation might’ve been avoided. 

“We should go,” Hotch says, looking at his team. His eyes land on your face again. “You’re still enrolled in the Academy. I still plan on having you as a part of this team. I’ll let them know you’ll be missing classes for a while, though, while you get better.”

With that, the team says their goodbyes, leaving you and Spencer alone again. You look over at him, a smile on your face. 

“What is it?” He asks, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face.

“I’m just…really lucky. To have you and the team.”

Spencer chuckles. “I’m the lucky one.”

You remove your hand from his, your hand moving to the back of his neck to pull him to you. His lips press against yours; hesitant at first, like he doesn’t want to hurt you. After a moment, Spencer relaxes, melting into the kiss. You run your fingers through his soft hair, pulling back slightly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The rest of your stay in the hospital is pretty boring, truth be told. Spencer never leaves your side—except to shower and change his clothes. The week passes by with visits from the team and Jamie, who meets you teary eyed when she visits for the first time. At the week’s end, the doctor claims you’re healed just enough to be able to go home with a pain killer prescription. 

Spencer has to carry you up to his apartment, because you, crutches, and stairs are a makeshift recipe for disaster. He sets you on his couch, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“I’m going to get your stuff from the car, okay?”

He rushes out the door and you sigh, leaning back on the cushions. You look at the bandage around your thigh and the healing cuts on your wrists from the fishing wire Lena had used. You bite the skin on your bottom lip, remembering the way you had held the knife to Lena’s throat, the way you were sure you wouldn’t have hesitated to kill her if she had so much as _thought_ about pulling that trigger. 

That thought scares you.

Spencer opening the door pulls you out of your thoughts and you look up at him, holding your overnight bag and crutches. He sets the crutches next to you before disappearing into his room. You stand, balancing yourself on the crutches before hobbling into his room, leaning against the door.

“I think I’m gonna take a bath, Spence. I gotta get this hospital smell off of me.” You smile. 

“Do you need my help?” He asks, walking over to you. He rests his hands on your sides, a small smile on his face.

“Actually, yes, I don’t think I can get in and out of the tub by myself.” A blush spreads across your cheeks. Despite the fact that Spencer has seen you naked _a lot_ , you still feel embarrassed to ask for his help.

He leans in and kisses your forehead. “I’ll go start the water.”

You watch him go into the bathroom and you go to his bed, sitting on the edge. You set your crutches next to you, pulling your pants down carefully over your thighs. You toss your shirt over your head and unclasp your bra, letting it fall on his floor. Underwear goes next, leaving you naked except for the bandage wrapped around your thigh, which you have to take off. 

Spencer walks back into his room, eyes raking over your body slowly. He kneels down in front of you, catching your eye as his hands rest on the bandage.

“Let me help.”

He finds the edge of the bandage and unwraps it slowly, eyes never leaving yours. Slowly, a small hole is revealed at the edge of your outer thigh. It’s a dark red, and you know a scar is going to live there forever. You think of the knife wounds on your face, shoulder, and arm, knowing those are going to stay with you forever, too. Spencer crumples the bandage up, tossing it to the side. His eyes drift down to your wound, looking at it for a moment before looking back up at your face.

“Does it hurt?” He asks gently.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “A little.”

“Come on.”

He helps you walk into the bathroom, turning off the water in the bathtub. You lean on him as he helps you get in, the water not too hot as you sink into it. It stings your wound and you grit your teeth, inhaling sharply.

“Are you okay?” Spencer’s voice is filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” you say. “The water just stings a little.”

After you’re completely submerged, minus your face, you lean your head back, looking up at Spencer. He smiles you, moving his hand to run his fingers through your hair. You close your eyes, his touch sending shivers through you despite the temperature of the water. 

He shifts, picking up a plain bar of soap—not wanting to irritate the wound on your thigh. He lathers his hands and starts with your neck, brushing his fingers lightly against your neck. His hands move to your neck and down your arms, careful not to apply to much pressure to your healing wrists. You sit up, letting him wash your chest, stomach, and back. Before he gets to your thighs, you stop him.

“I can do this part, Spence.” You reach for the soap.

He catches your hands, eyes searching yours. “No, please. Let me.”

You hesitate a moment before nodding, pulling your hand back to your body. You lift your left leg above the water, resting in the edge of the tub. Spencer lathers his hands again before he runs them from your foot to your thigh, barely applying pressure when he got to the small hole in your thigh. You wince slightly as he cleans it, meeting his eyes. After a moment, he switches legs, washing the other one with the same amount of care. 

He stands and disappears for a moment before returning with a plastic cup.

“Lean your head back, love,” he murmurs, putting some water into the cup.

You lean your head back and close your eyes, feeling Spencer’s hand right above your forehead. He gets your hair wet and sets the cup down, grabbing his bottle of shampoo. He massages it into your hair and you stifle a moan. As much as he isn’t _trying_ to turn you on, you can’t help it.

He washes the shampoo out and repeats the process with the conditioner, making sure to get it all out. You look up at him when he’s done, your lips upturned in the corners. He smiles and leans in, kissing you softly, his hand resting just below your jaw. You reach up, twisting your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer to you. He breaks the kiss, laughing softly.

“Is me caring for you really turning you on this much?” He asks, his smile widening.

“Maybe,” you retort, releasing your grasp on his hair. “It’s not my fault.”

“Come on, let’s get you out of there.”

He lifts you up and helps you step out of the tub, wrapping a towel around you. You yelp in surprise as he scoops you up in his arms, carrying you into his bedroom. You giggle as he sets you on the edge of his bed, rifling through your overnight bag. He pulls out a pair of panties and his Caltech sweater.

Kneeling in front of you, he pulls on your panties for you, making sure not to touch your left thigh. You raise your arms and let him pull the sweater onto your torso, the feeling warm and familiar. He moves to sit behind you, wrapping his arms around your stomach and pulling you to him, legs on either side of yours. His rubs circles into your stomach and you lean your head back onto his chest.

“You’re really good at taking care of people,” you notice, tilting your head up to kiss just underneath his jaw.

He smiles. “I like taking care of _you_.”

You don’t respond, a small smile on your face. Spencer taking care of you is a new level of intimacy you’ve never experienced before. It’s different, having someone care so much about you. But you love it. You love him. 

He tilts his head down and kisses you. The kiss is more urgent this time, his teeth biting down softly on your bottom lip. You groan softly, kissing him again, feeling his hands trail to the bottom of the sweater. You spread your legs slightly, letting your right leg rest on top of his. He chuckles, pulling back from the kiss.

“Is this what you want?” He asks, his fingers trailing to your covered slit, letting them graze up it slowly.

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Y-yes.”

He grins and pulls you in for another kiss, letting his hand slip inside of your panties. His fingers lightly brush up and down your slit, and you resist the urge to buck your hips. Spencer breaks the kiss, tilting your head to the side gently and kissing your neck. You moan suddenly when you feel one of his fingers against your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. 

“Fuck,” you groan, letting your eyes flutter shut.

He teases your core with his fingers, letting them barely slip in and out of you. His lips are still attached to your neck, leaving small hickeys across it. His lips travel up to your ear and he bites your earlobe softly.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers, a shudder running down your spine.

“You,” you whine out, feeling his lips move down your neck again.

You gasp as he pushes two fingers inside of you, immediately curling them to hit the raised ridge of flesh. He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, your pussy clenching around them immediately. You feel his erection pressed against your back, a slight moan escaping Spencer as you lean back slightly to put pressure on it. 

Maybe it was the fact that you haven’t had sex for a week, but you are already on edge as Spencer picks up his speed, his thumb brushing against your clit as he fingers you. Your breathing is coming in pants, Spencer’s left hand moving underneath the sweater, squeezing your boobs lightly. He can tell your close, pinching one of your nipples as your back arches slightly.

“Spence, I’m gonna—“

Your orgasm slams into you and you cry out, your hands going to grip his wrists tightly. Stars float across your vision as your legs shake slightly, your breathing erratic as Spencer slows his fingers. Your body jolts slightly when he brushes his thumb against your clit again, a whine coming from you. He removes his fingers and you bring them to your mouth, sucking and running your tongue around them. He groans and you feel his dick twitch against your back.

Spencer pulls the two of you to the head of the bed and you rest on your right side, looking at him. He kisses you softly and your hands fumble with his pants, pushing them down and wrapping your hand around his shaft.

He moans into your mouth and you giggle, stifled by his mouth. You begin pumping his dick in your hand, swiping your thumb across his tip, collecting the precum that is there. He thrusts into your hand, silently begging you to go faster. You increase your pace, letting his tongue slip into your mouth as the kiss deepens. After a few moments, Spencer breaks the kiss, turning on his back as you feel his dick twitch in your hand. His left hand grips your hair, panting as he shoots his load on his shirt, a string of moans and whines rushing past his lips. 

You release his dick, grabbing his left hand, using one of his fingers to collect some of his cum off his shirt. You hold eye contact as you run your tongue over his fingers, collecting the cum and swallowing. He laughs breathily, panting softly before getting off the bed. He cleans himself up and changes before lying back down behind you, wrapping his arms around you. 

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he whispers, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

You snuggle into him. “Thank you for saving me.”

Spencer is quiet, his breathing steadying. “Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, biting the inside of your cheek.

“I…I’ve been where you’ve been,” he responds, his grip tightening around you. “I had pretty bad PTSD.”

“I’m fine, Spence,” you whisper. 

He accepts your answer, not pushing you further. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You keep your eyes open, not being able to close them, your thoughts drifting. Are you really okay? 

_Yes_.

Then why do you feel like you can’t close your eyes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure how I feel about this chapter, but oh well!  
> Thank you all for such amazing comments on my last chapter, I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!!! I appreciate y'all so much.


	20. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You return to FBI Training and wrestle with some unwanted feelings.

"You sure you’re ready?”

You roll your eyes, limping into Spencer’s kitchen. “Spence, it’s been a month. I think I can handle going back to FBI training.”

Spencer’s on your heels, following you. “You’re limping.”

You turn to him, raising your eyebrows. “I’m not going to resume combat training _yet_. I know better than that.”

Spencer sighs, leaning against his counter. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”

His sentence rung true. The past month of recovery had been spent almost entirely in Spencer’s apartment in his bed. He telecommute cases if the BAU went out of town in order to stay with you, wanting to make your recovery as easy as possible. You’d passed the time with your psychology homework, gearing closer to graduation every day.

Recovery had been painful—you tried not to take your pain medication because you didn’t want to take the chance and tempt Spencer. He’d assured you he _wouldn’t_ take any of them—he wanted you to be able to recover with the least amount of pain possible. But after a month, you can walk without crutches or a cane—you did limp, though, just a little.

You walk over to him and he rests his hands on your sides. “I promise, I will be fine. I’ll be in a building full of FBI agents. Plus, I’m going to graduate in a couple weeks, so get used to me being around.” 

His thumb rubs circles in your side. “I know.” The gaze in his eyes softens. “You’ve been really strong. I’m proud of you.” 

You give him a small kiss. “I appreciate that.” Pushing him off you, you pour yourself a cup of coffee in a to go mug before grabbing your purse. “Now I have to go, or I’m gonna be late.” 

“Please be safe,” you hear him call as you walk out his door. 

The ride to the FBI Academy is a short one, and you can’t help but feel somewhat excited to be going back to training. In all honesty, all you want to do is graduate and get out in the field. Your slight brush with death has driven you further to want to catch bad people, a drive that seems to hum in your chest every moment you are awake. 

That drive is a good feeling—but it isn’t the only thing you’ve been feeling the past month. Something else is blooming in your mind, hiding in the dark corners, threatening to trickle out into your everyday life.

_Darkness_. 

A part of your innocence had been lost when Lena kidnapped you—an innocence you know you can never get back. You are changed. Anger and hatred threatens to spill into your conversations, your mind, your actions. It’s an anger you’re trying so hard to fight—and you aren’t sure if you’re winning or losing. 

Suppressing that feeling, you step out of your car and head into the FBI Academy building. Your training passes quickly for the day—interrogation with none other than David Rossi being your last class. 

Rossi calls your name as you head out the door, and you turn around, side stepping the other students who are filing out of class. 

“Yes, sir?”

“Please, just call me Rossi.” 

You inhale and nod, lips pursed. “What can I do for you?” 

“I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing after your attack.” He picks up his briefcase and walks over to you. 

You smile at him, the smile not quite reaching your eyes. “I’m alright. Spencer has been taking care of me.” 

“I bet you were itching to come back to the Academy,” Rossi jokes, his lips turning up in the corners.

You give a small laugh. “A little, yeah.” 

Rossi studies your face for a moment. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You meet his gaze, trying to make your words more convincing. “I’m coping.” 

“Well,” he pushes past you to stand in the doorway, “if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here. So is the whole team. We’ve all been through a lot—please feel free to talk to us if you need to.” 

“Uh—thank you, Rossi.” 

He nods and walks through the door, leaving you alone in the classroom. You look around the room for a moment before exiting, making a beeline toward your car. Climbing inside, you grip the steering wheel, your mind flashing back to your abduction. Sometimes, it’s like you feel like you’re reliving it—you can feel the blood dripping down your face, Lena’s hands on your shoulders, the gun pushed against your temple. 

_Fuck, you need to get drunk._

That’s how you end up at a bar not far from FBI Headquarters—already tipsy off two shots of rum. Not drinking for a month really lowered your alcohol tolerance, and part of you is grateful for that. You take another shot, feeling the warmth rush through your body. Eventually, the warmth spreads through your fingertips and you grin to yourself. _Numb_. That’s how you feel; how you wanted to feel. 

After five shots, you feel more than content, letting the images from earlier today fade in your brain. You close your eyes, letting the fuzzy feeling take over, the warm glow from the light bulbs making the inside of your eyes a warm amber color. 

“Well, hey there.” 

Opening your eyes, you turn your head to see who interrupted your content daydream. A young man stands next to you, a coy smile on his face. He’s about 5’10”, curly blonde hair and green eyes the color of moss. He leans against the bar, raising his eyebrows at you expectantly. 

You give him your best _fuck off_ face, hoping he gets the message as you turn away from him. Unfortunately for you, this asshole stays rooted in place, and you see his smile grow bigger from your peripheral. 

“Feisty—I like it. I can respect hard to get.”

You turn toward him. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh?” He questions, looking around. “Where is he now?” 

“Up your fucking ass,” you mutter, placing your hands on the bar as you attempt to stand. 

The man laughs and grabs your left bicep. “Why the hostility?” 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” 

He grips your arm tighter and your instincts take over. The anger inside of you swells in your chest, seeming to take over your actions. You grab his wrist with your right hand, freeing your bicep, hearing the audible crack of his nose as your elbow slams into it. The man stumbles back, hands covering his nose. 

“I said don’t fucking touch me!”

“What the fuc—“

You feel a hand wrap around your wrist and you tense, trying to pull yourself free yourself from the person’s grip. 

“Let go of—“ 

You turn and find yourself face to face with Emily Prentiss. She raises her eyebrows at you before her eyes flick over to the bleeding man. 

“Come on.” Her tone is final and you sigh, letting her pull your toward the front door of the bar. 

You’re drunker than you thought, giggling a little as you stumble out of the bar, Prentiss’ grip still tight on your wrist. She releases you once you’re outside, turning around to look at you with her arms crossed. 

“What was that?” She asks. 

You knit your brows. “The fuck do you mean? He touched me without my consent.” 

Her eyes search yours. “Making men bleed in bars doesn’t seem very much like you.” 

You’re silent, meeting her gaze unwaveringly. “Well, he deserved it.” 

“Did you drive yourself here?” 

You nod, shifting your weight, crossing your arms. She sighs, pulling out her phone and pressing it to her ear. After a moment, she speaks. 

“Can you come get your girlfriend, please?” 

You can only imagine Spencer’s frantic voice on the other end and you sigh. Great. You’d never hear the end of this from him. Prentiss gives him the name of the bar and hangs up, pushing her phone in her pocket. 

She doesn’t lecture you like you thought she would—just stood in silence next to you as you wait for Spencer to come pick you up. After approximately thirteen minutes, you see Spencer’s car pull up in front of the two of you. You throw a cold glance at Emily before walking to Spencer’s car, getting into the passenger’s side. You buckle up, silent as Spencer begins to drive away.

“Is that blood?” 

You look down at your left elbow, surprised to see blood on it—presumably from the man’s nose. You nod, the height of your drunkenness fading into oblivion as Spencer drives home. 

“Why do you have blood on you?” 

“Someone tried to touch me,” you mumble, looking straight out the windshield. Spencer doesn’t answer and you look at him, seeing concern crossing his face. “I just elbowed him, Spence, I didn’t kill him. Jeez.” 

He lets out a sigh, silent the rest of the way to his place. You get out as soon as he pulls into his parking spot, closing the door behind you. You limp up the stairs to his apartment, letting him catch up to you to unlock the door. You slip inside before him, going to the sink to wash your elbow off. 

As you run the water to warm, Spencer leans against the counter next to you. “So…are you going to tell me what that was about?” 

“What what was about?” You mutter, grabbing a paper towel and getting it wet. 

Spencer huffs, obviously annoyed. “Why I get a call from my coworker asking me to come pick a drunken you up from a bar where you obviously assaulted someone.” 

You wipe the blood of your elbow, letting it run under the warm water. “He assaulted me, first. He should be glad it was just an elbow to the face.” 

You squeeze the paper towel and throw it away before turning the water off, brushing past Spencer to walk into his room. He follows, not speaking. You take off your shoes and socks, pulling your shirt over your head. 

“You could’ve gotten hurt.” Spencer finally speaks from the doorway. 

“I didn’t,” you mutter, pulling on his Caltech sweater. 

You push down your pants and pull on a pair of black joggers. You turn your head and see Spencer’s eyes on your face, his head cocked. 

“Are you okay?” 

That is the second time you’ve been asked that question today, a feeling of annoyance flashing through you. 

“I’m fine.” You huff, crossing your arms. “I’m sick of people asking me that.” 

You begin to take strides across the room to the bathroom, but Spencer intercepts you, gripping your shoulders. You tense, remembering the feeling of Lena’s hands right where Spencer’s are and you move away from him, gasping. 

Spencer’s hands hover in the air, eyes searching yours. “You’re not fine.” 

You stand in front of him, an annoyed sigh leaving you. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

He takes a step toward you, not touching you. “I want you to tell me what’s wrong with you. What you’re feeling?” 

“How am I supposed to tell you how I’m feeling when I don’t even know how I’m feeling?!” Your voice is getting louder, the anger bubbling in your chest. 

“I just want—“ 

“I’m angry! I’m _angry_. I’m so angry sometimes I feel like I could explode. I get so angry I feel like a completely different person, Spence. I’m angry and sad and…” Tears sting at the corners of your eyes. “I can’t stop feeling it. Sometimes I feel like I’m still there, with Lena. It scares me. It makes me feel out of control. I’m not in control.” A humorless smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Do you wanna know the weirdest thing? I don’t feel back about making that guy bleed. Does that make me crazy? Am I evil?” 

You don’t realize you’re practically shouting until you finish speaking. You avert your gaze, hysterical tears falling down your cheeks. Spencer takes your hands and he leads you to the end of his bed, gripping them tightly as you sit. You feel his finger under your chin and he pulls your face up so he can look into your eyes.

“What you’re feeling right now,” he starts, hazel eyes searching yours, “is called PTSD. Twenty percent of people who go through traumatic events develop PTSD. You’re feeling a heightened sense of emotion, anxiety, unwanted memories.” His hand moves to the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I know because I had it. I had it after the incident with Tobias. I had it after Maeve. I understand.” He wipes under your eyes. “You’re not a bad person. You’re not evil. You’re not crazy.” 

You’re silent, eyes locked with his. He gives a sad smile, tilting his head. 

“That loss of control your feeling? I understand it. I fight with it every day. It’s so easy to give into it—to let yourself lose that control. It’s much easier than fighting it. Every day, it gets easier, though.” 

You swallow, feeling the anger diminish in your chest. “Does it…does it ever get easier? The tragedy?” 

Spencer bites the inside of his cheek. “The only thing that gets easier is the ability to ignore it.” 

You nod, practically chewing on your bottom lip. “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” 

“For trying to deal with this alone.” 

He leans in and kisses your forehead. “Don’t apologize for that, please. No one can tell you how to deal with tragedy.” 

“No, I guess not.” You lean your forehead against his. “It might help to talk to someone who understands, though.” 

“You can talk to me, anytime, love. I love you. I don’t want you to shut me out.” 

You’re quiet for a moment. “What if I feel the anger again?” 

Spencer adjusts his position. “What’s the opposite of anger?” 

You think for a second. “Pleasure.” 

A small smile plays on Spencer’s lips. “And what gives you pleasure?” 

“You.” Your answer is automatic, a blush spreading across your cheeks. 

“Okay, so, anytime you feel angry, think of me. Think of everything I make you feel. Block out the anger with something that gives you pleasure.” 

You tilt your head. “What did I do to deserve someone like you?” 

Spencer grins, leaning in to kiss you, the kiss deep. Pulling away, he exhales slowly. “I’m the lucky one.” 

You give a happy sigh, lying back on the bed. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” He looks down at you. “Now go fucking study so you can graduate in a couple weeks.” 

You groan, closing your eyes. “Goddamn it, why’d I have to date my professor?” 

Ironically, dating said professor is one of the greatest joys in your life—the whole reason you have a job at the BAU. And you’re giddy at the thought of being this close to working with him. 

All of the pieces are falling into place—and you _really_ hope nothing comes along to fuck it up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a new chapter! This is literally just fucking angst!


	21. Graduation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally graduate!

“Congrats graduate!”

You giggle as Spencer leads you inside the Striped Stormcloud, spying the familiar faces of the team and Jamie as they congratulate you. Still donning your cap and gown from the ceremony, you take the cap off your head and throw it in the air a little, the tassel spinning in the air before it comes back down. 

“Oh, jeez guys, thank you!” You gush, letting go of Spencer’s hand to go hug everyone around you.

Jamie hugs you first, whispering praise and kind words in your ear. Pulling back, she looks at you, eyes tearful.

“Promise me we’ll still have a girl’s night every once in a while?” 

You grin at her, gripping her shoulders. “Of course we will! You don’t think I’d abandon one of my best friends like that, do you?”

She gives you a small smile before you move to stand in front of your new team. They all clap and cheer, moving in on you to give you a big group hug. You giggle as they embrace you tightly, Garcia’s voice ringing above them all.

“Congrats, angel! You freaking did it!”

They release you and you look at all of their faces. “I literally cannot wait to start working with you guys.”

“How long do you have left for training?” Morgan asks, taking a sip of his beer.

Spencer arrives at your side with your usual drink and one of his own, slipping his arm around your waist. You smile up at him and take a sip before answering.

“One week,” you reply. “I just have to complete my physical training and that would put on hold for a while, well, because…” You gesture to your thigh.

You’re almost fully healed—no limp when you walk. Sometimes if you sleep on your side the wrong way or get up too fast, it hurts, but overall, it almost feels like the shooting didn’t even happen. It did though—you’re reminded of it every so often when you wake up with nightmares. 

Talking to Spencer about it seems to help—in a twisted way, you both share the same trauma. He can relate to what you’re going through, and right now, that’s what you need the most. Someone who understands. Unfortunately, sometimes not even Spencer can keep the nightmares away.

Graduation snuck up on you, though—but you graduated summa cum laude with a BS in Psychology, despite juggling training at the FBI Academy, getting shot, and keeping up with your regular classes all at the same time. You even made an A in Human Behavior—Spencer assures you it’s because you’re actually smart and NOT because of the amazing sex you two have together. You like to think it’s a little of both.

Hotch smiles a rare smile. “We can’t wait to have you officially join our team.”

“God, I can’t wait.” You take another sip of your drink before inhaling slowly. “I just, um, wanted to thank you all for…” You clear your throat, trying not to get teary eyed, “for being there for me and helping me out when I needed it the most.”

Prentiss gives you a small smile. “You don’t need to thank us.”

“You’re a part of our team,” JJ says. “We protect our team.”

“We’re family,” Spencer says, giving you a kiss on your temple.

Morgan clears his throat. “Alright, alright, enough of the emotional shit. Let’s raise a glass to Y/n!”

The whole group, Jamie included, raises a glass to you. You blush and raise your own before downing it, setting the glass on the bar counter.

“Let’s celebrate!” You say, laughing as everyone cheers.

You grab another drink at the bar, tapping your fingers against the wood.

“Hey.”

You turn to see Prentiss beside you, a smile on her face. 

“Oh, hey,” you reply, smiling at her.

“Last time we were at a bar together you elbowed a guy in the face,” she says, her tone light. “Are we gonna have a repeat of that tonight?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No, absolutely not. Besides,” you jut your head toward Spencer, “if anyone here touches me without my consent, he’s the one you need to look out for.” You’re quiet for a moment. “I wanted to apologize for that day. I was…in a dark place. I still am, kind of, but I’m coping.”

“Y/n, you went through a traumatic event,” she says, tilting her head. “I would be worried if you _weren’t_ in a somewhat dark place.” 

The bartender slides your drink in front of you and you thank him before turning back to Prentiss. “Well, I apologize nonetheless. And thank you, for calling Spencer. And for being a friend.”

Emily nods. “Of course. We’re a team. We mean it when we say that. Not only that, but you mean a lot to Spencer. And ever since he met you, he’s never been happier.” She looks over at Spencer who’s talking to Morgan and Garcia about something. “He’s so in love with you.”

“I’m so in love with him,” you reply, a small blush spreading across your cheeks. 

“Well, I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your little party,” she says, picking her beer up from the counter. 

“Thanks,” you say, picking up your own drink and walking over to Spencer.

He’s babbling about some episode of Star Trek, Morgan’s eyes screaming “help me” as you approach them. You wrap your arm around Spencer’s waist, his words dropping mid-sentence.

“Hey,” he says softly, smiling at you.

“Hey,” you reply, tilting your head up to kiss him on the cheek.

Garcia practically beams at you. “Have I mentioned how freaking excited I am that I get to work with you?”

You laugh. “Only five hundred times—but I can’t wait either.” You glance around the bar and tilt your head. “Where’s Rossi?”

Garcia rolls her eyes. “He’s at some sort of fancy convention. He sends his congrats and says you and Spencer need to come over for a pasta night to really celebrate.”

You look at Spencer. “That sounds fantastic.” 

“Are you nervous about joining the BAU?” Morgan changes the subject, leaning back against the wall. 

You think for a moment. “A little. I know I should be super nervous. I mean, it’s the FBI and I’m…young and don’t want to mess up. I’m mostly excited.”

“Boy genius over here joined the BAU when he was twenty-two. There’s no such thing as too young if you have raw talent and instincts.” Morgan smiles at you. “You’ve already helped us put away two murderers—I know you’re itching for more.”

Spencer’s hand rubs your lower back lightly, his thumb rubbing small circles. “It’s all she talks about.”

“What can I say, I’m ready.” You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs. “I’m gonna go talk to Hotch for a minute.”

Hotch is sitting at a high-top table with JJ and a man you don’t recognize. You approach them, setting your drink down.

“Oh, Y/n, this is Will!” JJ motions to the guy next to her. “He’s my husband.”

Will sticks his hand out and you shake it. “Nice to meet you.”

He has a very thick Louisiana accent. You almost have no fucking idea what he’s saying, but you smile at him. “Nice to meet you, too.”

JJ finishes her glass of wine before looking at Will. “We really should be going soon.”

“Why?” You ask, disappointment lacing your voice. 

“We have to get back to Henry.”

“Henry?”

“Our son,” JJ says, smiling. “I thought Spencer would’ve mentioned him. He’s his godfather after all.”

“Really?” You smile, glancing over at Spencer. “No, he never told me. I’d love to meet him someday, though.”

“That can definitely be arranged,” JJ replies. “For now, we’re gonna go spend some time with him.” She grips your arm, smiling gently at you. “Congrats. You’re going to love the BAU.” 

You wave goodbye to her and turn to Hotch, tapping your fingers on the side of your glass. “I just wanted to thank you again, for everything.”

The corners of Hotch’s mouth turn up. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re very smart and will make a very valuable asset to this team.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint you, sir.” You finish your drink as Hotch stands.

“You’re leaving too?” You ask him, tilting your head.

He gives a small chuckle. “I have to go take care of Jack.”

“Your son?” You guess. You eye Hotch’s left hand. No ring.

“Yes, my son.” A sort of pride you’ve never seen before flashes in Hotch’s eyes. “We can talk more soon. I’ll be in contact about your official first day by the week’s end.”

You nod at him. “Thanks for coming out.”

“Of course.” He walks by you and turns around again. “And congrats.”

You thank him as he walks off and go join Spencer again. You’re a little tipsy and you run your fingers along his back lightly. He turns his head to you and you give him a smile.

“I think we’re gonna head out,” Spencer says, his own hand going to rest on your lower back. “She’s gotta get some rest before tomorrow.”

Morgan raises his eyebrows at Spencer. “I’m sure _that’s_ why you’re really leaving.”

You blush, sticking your tongue between your teeth. “Hey, we have to do our own celebration.”

Garcia laughs and hits Morgan’s arm. “Let them leave, love.” She smiles at you again. “See you soon, okay?”

You nod and bid them goodbye, slipping your hand into Spencer’s. He drives the two of you to his apartment. You slip off your graduation gown in the car, folding it and leaving it in Spencer’s backseat. You’re left in a white low-cut dress, Spencer’s hand resting on your thigh when you settle back into your seat. 

He keeps his hand on the small of your back as you walk up the stairs to his apartment, and you use your own key to unlock the door, leaving it sitting on the table beside the door. He closes the door and spins you around, kissing you softly before it even shuts. 

You giggle into the kiss, wrapping your arms around him. He moves his hands to the back of your thighs, lifting you up so he’s carrying you. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer to you as he brings you into his bedroom. Once inside, he sets you down, unzipping your dress and discarding it quickly.

“I’m so proud of you,” he mumbles against your neck, his lips leaving small kisses and bite marks as they move down.

You unbutton his shirt, pushing it off of him, your hands moving to his shoulders. His hands move to unclasp your bra, your head tilting back as he immediately connects his lips with your right nipple. 

“Fuck,” you groan, one hand going to his hair and twisting your fingers it in. 

His own hands unbutton and unzip his pants, pushing them down and kicking them to the side. His tongue circles your nipple teasingly, and you moan, back arching slightly when his teeth graze it. He breaks the connection, standing back up and kissing you again, biting your bottom lip. He pushes you to the edge of the bed until you’re sitting, letting himself kneel between your legs.

His lips travel from your jaw to your neck, down your chest and stomach, his hands running down your sides slowly. You inhale sharply when he kisses the inside of your thighs, his fingers hooking in your panties before pulling them down quickly. 

“Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he groans. You jolt slightly when you feel one of his fingers run up your slit slowly.

You moan softly, your fingers twisting it his hair again. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, his tongue swiping up your slit slowly before swirling around your clit. Your moan grows louder, your pussy clenching as he sucks on your clit.

“Oh fuck, Spence!” You look down at him, his eyes already on your face as he pushes two fingers inside of you.

You cry out as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting your g-spot already, clenching around his fingers as he begins pumping them inside of you. His teeth graze over your clit, a jolt of electricity running through you, your hips bucking.

“You’re especially responsive today, darling,” Spencer muses, pumping his fingers faster. “Why is that?”

His mouth returns to your clit, sucking harder, his tongue flicking it as he draws you closer to your orgasm. The grip in his hair tightens, pulling his mouth even closer to your pussy, his fingers pumping faster as he pleasures you with both his fingers and his mouth. You look down at him through hooded eyes, the pleasure almost too much as you feel yourself teeter on edge.

He breaks his mouth away from your clit for only a moment. “Cum for me, angel.”

You cry out as your legs shake, panting as you hit your climax. Your pussy throbs around his fingers that continue to thrust into you through your high, small whimpers leaving your throat as he kisses your sensitive clit. Eventually, he pulls his fingers out of you. You try to steady your breathing as you grip his wrist, pulling his fingers to your mouth. You suck your juices off of them, keeping eye contact with Spencer as he raises himself off his knees.

You move back on the bed, Spencer pulling off his boxers, his hard dick springing free. He climbs on the bed, leaving a trail of wet kisses up your torso, chest, and neck. He gives you a small smile before kissing your lips, biting your bottom lip as he thrusts into you.

You groan as you quickly adjust to his length, wrapping your legs around him so he can go deeper. A moan slips out of his mouth as he rests his forehead on yours, one hand snaking up your arm to your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Spencer thrusts deeper, keeping his pace slow, small pants escaping him.

You’ve heard of the term “making love”—and you absolutely hate it. But in this moment, between you and Spencer, he isn’t fucking you. It’s too sweet for that, too slow. He doesn’t break eye contact as he increases his pace.

“Fuck,” he groans when you tighten your legs around him. “I love you so fucking much.”

Your right hand snakes to his neck, digging your nails into it as his pace increases. “I love you, too.” You bring him in for a deep kiss and break it. “Now, _fuck_ me.”

Spencer smirks slightly before picking up the pace, hitting you faster and deeper. You moan out, a high-pitched moan that Spencer muffles with his mouth. You clench around his dick and he grunts softly, his right hand untangling from yours and reaching down to rub your clit. Your nails dig deeper into his neck, both of you panting erratically.

“Are you gonna be good and cum for me, baby?” He asks, eyes searching yours.

You nod, arching your back as he rubs your clit faster, his dick hitting the sweet spot inside of you with every thrust in. Your thighs shake slightly as Spencer brings you to your second orgasm, letting out a small cry as his hand leaves your clit to snake around your arched back, pulling you deeper on his dick as you cum. Your head leans back, leaving your neck exposed, Spencer’s lips attaching to it as you throb around his dick, coaxing him to his own orgasm.

You feel his high-pitched moans vibrate against your neck as his dick twitches inside of you, feeling his cum spill inside your pussy. After a few more small thrusts, Spencer stops moving, leaving his dick inside of you as he pants against your neck. After a moment, he lifts his head up, kissing you deeply.

“Did you like your graduation present?” He asks breathily, a small smile on his face.

“It might’ve been the best present I’ve ever gotten,” you pant, laughing softly.

He pulls out of you and you groan at the loss of contact, staying on your back as Spencer gets up. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a warm washcloth, wiping it between your thighs. You smile and kiss him as you stand, going pee before you put on a pair of panties, joggers, and one of Spencer’s sweaters. You slip under Spencer’s sheets, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist as he pulls you to him. 

You say nothing as you lean back against him, feeling his lips at the back of your neck. You smile, exhaustion washing over you.

“Congrats, baby,” he whispers, planting one last kiss on your neck.

“Thanks, love,” you whisper back. After a moment, you speak again. “Can I ask you a question, Spence?”

“Anything.”

“Do you want kids?”

The question takes Spencer by surprise, his grip on you tightening a little. “Why do you ask?”

You turn around so you’re facing him. “I’m just curious.”

Spencer thinks for a moment before looking at you again. “Yes. I...I’ve wanted kids for a long time.” His fingers rub circles in your back. “Do you want kids?”

Your fingers play with his hair absent-mindedly. “I think so. I do. With you.”

A smile spreads across his face. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” you say, grinning at him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” His voice is quiet and he gives you a small kiss. “Now go to sleep. You need rest.”

You turn back around, adjusting yourself against Spencer before sleep pulls you under.

The sound of a phone ringing wakes you, eyes slowly fluttering open, a deep groan coming from Spencer. You feel one of his arms leave you, fumbling around for his phone on his nightstand. You turn toward him, yawning, eyes still heavy. The clock says it’s 4:45 AM.

“Hello?” He answers, his voice raspy. He listens and his eyes shoot open, going to look right at you. “Hotch, are you—“ He gets cut off, listening intently before sighing. “I understand. We’ll be there soon.”

He hangs up and you look up at him. “What was that about?”

“There’s a new case in Aurora, Colorado the BAU got called in on,” he replies, sitting up.

You untangle yourself from him, leaning against your elbow. “So you have to leave?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “we both have to leave. The Bureau wants you to start on this case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, the FBI is bringing Reader in early! That's so exciting!  
> I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!


	22. First Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bureau calls you in on your first case.

“Why do they want me _now_?” 

“I’m not sure; Hotch didn’t say.”

The two of you are in Spencer’s car, heading to Quantico. A lot of your stuff was in your car—having to clean out your dorm the day before graduation. In your rush, you’d stuffed your makeshift go bag with some somewhat nice clothes, opting to use the toiletries the hotel would provide. You dressed in a pair of black slacks, a red turtleneck, and a pair of short heels before throwing your shit in the back of Spencer’s car. A million thoughts run through your head, the first being why the Bureau is bringing you in so early. 

“I’m nervous,” you say, the feeling shooting through your body despite your best efforts to shut it out.

“I know.” Spencer reaches over to lace his fingers in yours. “They probably won’t even let you into the field, so don’t worry.”

“Shit, I haven’t passed my gun qualification yet,” you groan, leaning your head back against the seat.

Spencer laughs, pulling into his spot outside the Bureau. “When’s your first test?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Well, it was supposed to be tomorrow, but looks like I’ll have to reschedule.”

It’s 5:30 am. You climb out of the car, grabbing your go bag and walking inside with Spencer. Your guess is JJ is going to brief everyone on the jet. You and Spencer move quickly to the jet. Your heart is racing in your chest as you walk up the ramp, biting at the skin inside of your mouth to try to calm yourself. 

“Well, hello there,” Prentiss admires as you drop your go bag on the floor, taking a seat across from the large table she’s sitting at. She hands you a cup of coffee. “I thought you’d probably want this.”

“Good morning,” you say to everyone, a cheeky smile on your face. You take the coffee, taking a sip. “Thank you, I’m exhausted.”

“Y/n, hello.” You turn your head and see Hotch standing. “Sorry to pull you in so early. The Bureau made an executive decision to bring you in now, and I followed it.”

“It’s fine, sir,” you tell him, Spencer settling in the seat next to you. “You did wake me up from a pretty good dream, though.”

Morgan laughs. “I’m sure we all know what that dream was about.”

Spencer shoots daggers at Morgan. “Hey.”

You elbow Spencer in the ribs. “It’s fine.”

“Everyone strap in for liftoff. JJ will brief us when the plane’s in the air.”

You strap in your seatbelt and lean back, pulling your arm through Spencer’s, letting your fingers brush against the top of his hand. The team talks quietly around you as the plane takes off and you pop your ears, still running your fingers around Spencer’s hand. It’s been forever since you’ve been on a plane—but the feeling is exhilarating. 

At peak altitude, you release your seatbelt, leaning forward in your seat as JJ pulls out files. A little monitor on the table flashes, and Garcia’s face pops up, bright and happy as ever.

“Good morning, lovelies,” she says, a grin spreading across her face. “Especially to the newest member of the team, happy first case.”

You grin. “Thanks, Garcia.”

“Alright, JJ, begin.”

“Four women have been found dead the past two months in Aurora, Colorado.” She hands everyone a file, and you run your fingers down the folder, a jolt of electricity running through you. You open the file, scanning over the documents as she speaks. “They’re found handcuffed; all of them were beaten and strangled to death. The victims are also found sometimes with clothing that didn’t belong to them—their bodies are almost groomed, like the unsub played with them after death. The latest victim was decapitated.” 

“The unsub is escalating,” Spencer says, eyes the documents in front of him.

“Any evidence of sexual assault?” Rossi asks.

JJ nods. “Yes, sexual assault is evident in every victim.”

“Is there any evidence of sexual assault after death?” You ask, knitting your eyebrows together.

“Yes,” JJ says slowly. 

“Where did the victims disappear?” Hotch asks.

Garcia chimes in. “All of the victims disappeared in a public place, normally a coffee shop or somewhere they studied.”

“They’re all college students?” You tap against the file slowly.

“Every single one of them,” JJ says. 

“Oh my god,” you read over the files, a realization hitting you. “This unsub is imitating Ted Bundy.”

Prentiss scrunches her nose. “Isn’t it a little early to decide that?”

“No, no, think about it.” You set the file down on your thighs. “College aged women disappearing from public places. Knocked out, tortured, raped, strangled. Sexual assault after death. Decapitation—which Bundy did with a few of his victims.” You look around at the team. “Geographically, Bundy’s abductions and murders happened in the later part of his killing. But he did stop in Colorado.”

“The MO and signature do sound the same,” Spencer thinks out loud. “Bundy was a sexual sadist—he got off on the torture and the rape.”

You nod. “Bundy was a charming psychopath with antisocial personality disorder. He held no remorse for his victims. He tortured his victims because that’s what provided him with sexual release—but also gave him control over his victims. He wanted the control, which is ultimately why he raped them. Rape gave him the ultimate sexual satisfaction. It’s a part of his fantasy.”

“He also did return to his secondary locations sometimes,” Morgan agrees. “He would dress them up, paint their nails, most of the time have sex with the corpses again.”

“Which is also a factor of control,” you notice. “When his victims are dead, they can’t fight back. He has all of the power.” You look at Hotch. “Whoever this unsub is holds Bundy as their God.”

Hotch nods. “He might also have some aspects of antisocial personality disorder.” He nods in approval at you. “Morgan, Reid, when we get to Aurora, you two go visit all the crime scenes. Y/n and I will go to the abduction sites. Prentiss and Rossi, you two question the family and friends, see if we can make any connections between victims. Victimology is tough right now—college aged women.” He looks at Garcia. “Garcia, do a check at the college the women went to—check their class schedules, see if any overlap. And if any do overlap, do a background check on any guys in the class.”

“Yes, sir.” The screen goes dark.

“How do you know so much about Bundy?” JJ asks, tilting her head.

You shake your head. “I did a project over him for a one of my psych classes. We had to choose a serial killer and, uh, dissect his brain psychologically.”

“Hm.”

You laugh softly and lean back against your seat again, fiddling with the file. “Was I okay?”

He laughs, lacing his fingers with yours. “Yes, you did amazing.”

You smile and open your file with one hand, reading over the documents. Two of the victims were last seen in a coffee shop, two in a library in the center of downtown Aurora. Being around the team made you a little less nervous, but you’re so afraid you’re going to screw up your first case with the team.

Spencer squeezes your hand, sensing the way your body stiffens for a moment. You look at him and smile softly, squeezing his hand back. He leans down and kisses your cheek quickly.

“Yo, lover boy, tone down the PDA,” Morgan yells from the other side of the jet.

“Shut up,” you mutter, grinning at him. 

It’s 9:17 am by the time the jet touches down. You grab your go bag and put it in the back of Hotch’s car and climb into the passenger seat. He begins to drive to the coffee shop. You feel a little awkward—you’ve never really been alone with Hotch in a work setting before.

“You did very well on the jet,” Hotch says, a small smile on his face.

You smile at him. “O-oh thanks.” You study his face, raising your eyebrows. “You knew it was a Bundy copycat, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” Hotch replies. “I just wanted someone to confirm them.”

“This guy, whoever he is, probably acts the same as Bundy,” you tell him. “He’ll definitely be using a ruse.”

Hotch nods. “We’ll question the workers at the coffee shop and the library. Maybe someone saw something before the victims vanished.”

You look at the file in your hands. “The two victims who vanished from the coffee shop were named Lindsey Mars and Laila Roberts.” 

Looking out the window, you can’t help but notice how pretty Colorado is. Trees rush past you, a thick covering of snow on the ground despite it being the beginning of May. The closer to Aurora, the more buildings came into view. Hotch parks outside of the coffee shop and you climb out.

“I’ll take the lead on questions, but feel free to ask if you feel you need to,” Hotch says. You nod and he pushes open the door to the shop.

The overwhelming smell of coffee hits you and your mouth basically waters. You’re tired—coffee would help. You aren’t exactly sure about the rules of buying coffee on the job in an abduction site, so you just walk beside Hotch.

“You want anything?” He asks, noticing your eyes on the menu board.

“Is that allowed?” You ask, nervous.

Hotch actually laughs. “Yes. You buy your coffee; I’ll get the store manager and see who was working at the time of the disappearances.”

You nod and quickly buy a large caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso. You wrap your hands around the warm mug and find Hotch, sitting in a corner with a short, stocky man. You take a seat next to him.

“This is Special Agent Y/l/n; she’s working on the case with us.”

You nod at the man and he nods back.

“Sir, as I said before, two women were abducted just outside this shop.” He shows him the pictures of the two women, telling him the dates of both abductions. “Did you happen to be working at any point during those days?”

The store manager nods. “Yeah, I was working when she was here.” He points at the picture of Laila. “I remember her because she was here for _hours_ working on school.”

“Do you remember her leaving?” Hotch asks, looking into the man’s eyes. Sheesh, Hotch is intense. You make a mental note to never get interrogated by him. 

The store manager thinks for a moment before nodding. “Yes. She left with…a man. I thought it was weird because she left all her stuff here—never came back for it.”

“Do you remember what the man looked like?” You ask him, cocking your head.

“Short, brown hair. He was wearing a uniform of some kind—I-I can’t remember what it was.”

Hotch nods. “Thank you.”

Your interrogation at the library gives you and Hotch some more details of the unsub, and the two of you head to the police station in Aurora. The rest of the team is already there, gathered around a board with pictures of each victim and the geographical locations they were abducted from and found in.

Hotch presses a button on his phone.

“Master of all knowledge speaking, what would you like to know?”

“Garcia, did you get anything?”

“Yeah, so, I did what you asked, but none of the women were ever in the same classes. They all had different majors. But, me being the amazing human I am, went and did some digging. I found out that at some point in each of their college careers, they all were a part of debate club, even for just a short period of time.”

“Can you get us a list of everyone who was in debate club when the victims were?” Spencer asks, leaning on his hands against table.

“Got it.”

“Now try to focus on guys who were a part of that club when the victims were in it.”

“There are two guys; can you give me anything to narrow it down?”

“This guy will have lived in Aurora all his life,” you say. “He might have a history of criminal background.”

“Got it. Michael Williams. He’s lived in Aurora all his life, spent some time in high school in juvie after an attempted sexual assault. His parents moved away after he started college.”

“Abandonment issues,” Prentiss says.

”This man would be in his mid-twenties Brown hair, short. Does he match that description?”

”To a t.”

“Is there an address?”

Garcia sends it over and Hotch looks around the room.

“I think we have our unsub.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a little cliffhanger! Sorry if this chapter was boring--but I promise the next will be more exciting. :)


	23. Falling into You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finish your first case and want to ask Spencer a question.

You flip through the files lying on the table in front of you, trying to pass the time. The team had left twenty minutes ago to get the unsub, Hotch asking JJ to stay behind with you. No gun = no going out into the field. Groaning, you look up at the clock on the gray police station wall.

“You’re worried,” JJ says, sliding into the chair next to you.

You look at her, a small smile on your face. “I think I’m mostly antsy. I wish I could have gone.” Your smile turns apologetic. “I’m sorry you had to stay behind and babysit me.”

JJ laughs, the sound ringing out around you like bells. “It’s alright, I’m not mad about it. Sometimes I’d rather not go into the field anyway. Plus, I have a son, so I’m used to ‘babysitting’, as you call it.”

You nod, biting down on your bottom lip. “I can’t go into the field if Spencer’s going, anyway. It’s too risky.”

JJ lets out a small hum. “He’d take a bullet for you, you know.”

You smile, glancing back down at the table, fingers fidgeting with your pants. “I know. That’s the problem—I’d do the exact same for him.”

“You kinda already have.” She gestures to your thigh and you laugh. “Something’s bothering you, though, I can tell.”

You shift in your seat, sighing. “I’m thinking of asking if I can move in with Spencer. Is that weird? Too forward? Usually the guy asks the girl, right?”

JJ shakes her head. “I actually can’t believe he hasn’t asked you yet. You guys already practically live together, don’t you?”

You stand, walking around the table. “Yeah, practically. I guess I’m just worried he’ll say no.”

JJ gets up and walks over to you, putting her hands on your shoulders. “Listen. That boy is crazy about you.” She smiles, squeezing your shoulders softly. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you—you’re his entire universe. He’ll want you to move in with him, no doubt.”

You can’t help the stupid grin that crosses your face. “Thanks, JJ.”

“I got your back,” she says, squeezing your shoulders once more before she releases you.

JJ’s phone rings and she presses it to her ear. “Hello?” Listening for a minute, a smile breaks out on her face. “That’s good. See you guys in a minute.” She pushes her phone in her pocket and looks at you. “They got him.”

You exhale slowly, relief washing over you. “Thank god.”

You sit back down at the table, playing some stupid game on your phone until you hear the police station doors open. You immediately stand, looking at the faces of your colleagues and friends as they file through the door. Two local officers are guiding the unsub inside, a young attractive man with a sinister smirk on his face. He meets you eyes, the smirk growing wider. You hold his gaze, unwavering, trying not to show fear as he’s ushered away. You find Spencer’s face; it lights up when he sees you, walking over to you quickly. His fingers brush your cheek softly and you close your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Thanks for not dying.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I would never.”

“Listen up everyone.”

Hotch’s voice breaks your attention, and you and Spencer, as well as the rest of the team, turn toward him. 

“Everyone did very well today.” He looks at you, approval in his eyes. “Let’s go home.”

The team breaks off into separate cars, you and Spencer sharing a car with Rossi. He drives, glancing at you in the passenger’s side. Spencer had taken the backseat—a nice little gesture. You look at Rossi, eyebrows raised.

“Yes?” You ask, mouth upturned a little at the corners.

“You did well on your first case, piccolo.” He smiles as he pulls in front of the jet. “I can see you becoming a valuable asset to this team.”

“Thank you,” you say, a blush creeping over your cheeks. “That means…a lot.”

He winks at you and laughs as he opens the door. You and Spencer climb out of the car and you grab your go bag, lacing your fingers with his as you walk up the ramp to the inside of the jet. You sit at the big table next to him, keeping your fingers entwined under the table. Prentiss and Morgan sit across from you two.

“Well, newbie, you did well this time,” Morgan says, a teasing smile on his face.

“Morgan, don’t be mean to her!” Prentiss hits his arm and he laughs.

“Or what, pretty boy will beat me up?” 

You scoff. “I’ll beat you up myself—Prentiss has seen me make tough boys like you bleed.”

Spencer and Prentiss burst out laughing at the shock on Morgan’s face before he laughs, too. The jet ride back isn’t a somber one—it’s filled with conversation and laughter. This case was an easy one to start off on; that much you realize. It was clean cut, very black and white. You know all cases aren’t like that, but for now, you’re going to relish in it.

You step off the jet back at FBI Headquarters, your go bag in hand. Spencer leads you back to the bullpen. You realize you don’t even have a desk yet and you look at Hotch when he enters.

“Uh, Hotch—“

“I know. Give me a moment and I’ll clear a desk for you.”

You stand awkwardly by the door to the bullpen, rocking on your heels as everyone else sits down and starts on their paperwork. Spencer looks at you apologetically as he sits, opening the file at his desk. You click your tongue as Hotch walks back over to you.

“Follow me.”

You follow him to a small desk right next to Prentiss’, donned with a computer and a keyboard. A bare desk to make your own. Smiling, you thank him and sit down. Hotch explains the paperwork to you carefully before leaving you alone. You look at it, realizing you don’t even have a pen. 

You turn to Prentiss. “Hey, do you have—“ 

She holds up a pen for you without looking up, a smile on her face. You take it, thanking her, before starting on the paperwork. It’s not too hard, just a little tedious. After a while, you finish, sliding the paperwork back into the file. You stand and realize everyone has pretty much left, save Spencer who’s waiting for you, reading a book. You walk into Hotch’s office, setting the file on his desk.

“Here you go, sir.” 

He nods as you set it down. “Thank you for your hard work. I’m…sorry you couldn’t finish your training all the way before being pulled onto your first case.” 

You smile, shaking your head. “It’s alright. I don’t want this to sound weird, but…it was very interesting.”

Hotch actually laughs—he _laughs_. “I rescheduled your gun qualification for tomorrow afternoon. I’ve been looking in at some of your practice sessions. You’re quite the shot.”

“I’m just a perfectionist,” you reply, the grin growing wider. “But thank you, sir. I’m glad to be a part of this team.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

You thank him again before leaving his office, grabbing your go bag. You approach Spencer’s desk, his eyes leaving the page of the book he’s reading and landing on you, smiling.

“Hey, love,” he says, shutting the book and standing up.

“Hey,” you reply, lacing your fingers with his.

He leans in and gives you a small kiss, smiling against your lips. “You did well today.”

“Thanks, love.”

He puts the book underneath his arm, grabbing his go bag before leading you out of the bullpen. The walk to his car is slow, your hands swinging between the two of you. You throw your stuff in his backseat before climbing inside the car, leaning your head against the headrest.

As he drives to his apartment, your nerves grow little by little. You hate asking people for things—much less asking your boyfriend if you could move in with him. It seems stupid considering the fact you basically already live with Spencer, but it’s not official. He reaches over and grips your hand, running his thumb in little circles. Turning your head, you smile at him.

The walk up to his place is quiet, your heart beating so loud in your chest it’s a wonder it doesn’t just fly out and run away from you. Spencer unlocks the door and you walk inside, dropping your bag on the ground and taking off your heels, sighing.

“God, I forgot how much I hate heels.”

Spencer laughs and walks into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “I’m glad I don’t have to wear those.”

You giggle, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. You glance at the ground, trying to push the words out of your mouth but unable to. You hear the shuffle of Spencer’s footsteps before you feel his fingertips under your chin, pulling your face up to meet his.

“What is it?” He asks, hazel eyes boring into you.

“Um, I…” You inhale deeply, averting your gaze. “I, um, had to move out of my dorm a couple days ago, right?” He nods. “And, uh, r-rent in the D.C. area isn’t exactly c-cheap, and I already practically live here, but I was just wondering—“ Spencer interrupts you with his laugh and you look back up at him, eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“Are you asking to move in with me?” He asks, a soft smile on his face.

“I mean…yeah,” you reply, biting your bottom lip. “Sorry, I’m just not…great at asking people things. I get nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous around me,” he says, an unrecognizable look in his eyes. He bites the inside of his cheek and you raise your eyebrows.

“So are you going to give me an answer?”

Spencer smiles, running his hand down your arm to lace your fingers together. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something?”

You cock your head. “What’s that?”

His smile widens. “Will you marry me?”

Your heart practically stops beating, your jaw dropping open. “W-wha—“

“Stop, let me get my speech out first, I—I, uh, wrote it down.” He releases your hand, fishing in his pocket until he produces a small piece of paper. The fact that a man with an eidetic memory even has to look at the words he wrote down proves he’s nervous about messing up. Unfolding it, he takes a deep breath, looking at the words, then at you. “My whole life I’ve been moving toward greatness. I memorize facts and catch criminals and read books—that’s who I am. As great as I am, I’ve been moving through this world alone, drifting in and out of nothingness for a long time. It’s like I was moving toward something, but I didn’t know what.” He swallows, eyes drifting back to the paper. “It didn’t matter how many facts I memorized or how many books I read—nothing would have prepared me for the way I feel about you. All my life I have been falling into you.” Tears spring at the corners of your eyes as you look at the man in front of you. His eyes look back up at you, glassy. “Everything I’ve done in this world has led me to you. Now, I memorize you. I memorize the way you speak and laugh and walk. I memorize the way your fingers feel against my cheek, or the way your lips press against mine. I’ve memorized you.” You watch him sink down on one knee, his hand drifting to his back pocket. You can’t stop the tears from falling now, letting out a small laugh as Spencer pulls out a little black velvet box. “It has been one hundred twenty eight days, twenty two hours, and forty seven minutes since I met you. I will continue counting the days for the rest of my life.” He opens the box, revealing a small rose gold engagement ring, an oval opal in the middle framed by small diamonds. You inhale sharply, looking from the ring to his eyes, finding his own tears falling down his cheeks. When he speaks next, his voice breaks. “I love you. I will love you for the rest of my life, however long that may be. I will spend the rest of forever memorizing you. Will you marry me?”

You smile through your tears, cupping his face with your hands, brushing his tears away. “Spencer Reid, I am _so_ in love with you. I have loved you for forever. I will continue loving you for the rest of my life. Of course I’ll marry you.”

You half laugh/half shriek as Spencer shoots up, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you around, you hands holding tightly around his neck. He sets you down, crashing his lips against yours. You hold his face in your hands, moving your lips against his softly. Both of you are crying—together you’re stupid, happy, crying messes. He breaks away, laughing softly.

“Can I…” He holds up the ring and you nod, laughing.

You hold out your left hand and Spencer slips the ring onto your ring finger, fitting perfectly. You marvel at the ring, looking at the way the opal changes color in the light.

“I, um, chose opal because of your mother,” he says quietly. “The ring you have of hers is opal, so I figured—“

You cut him off with a kiss, Spencer laughing into it. Breaking away, you kiss his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, his laugh ringing throughout the room. After a minute, you break away, arms still wrapped around him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t propose in a more romantic setting…I just—I dunno—felt like this was the right time?”

“Spencer, this was perfect. You could’ve proposed to me with a fucking Ring Pop in the middle of a gas station and I would’ve said yes. I love _you_.” 

His fingers run up and down your back slowly, the grin on his face growing wider. “Mrs. Spencer Reid. My fiancée.”

“Oh my god, we’re gonna get married,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his.

“We’re getting married.” His voice is soft, the smile never wavering on his face.

“So, I’m guessing that’s a yes on the moving in together?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I actually cried writing this chapter oh my GOD.  
> The phrase "all my life I've been falling into you" is a line from one of my favorite books, Bridges of Madison County. Anyway, Spencer and Reader are engaged! Holy shit! That's crazy! This was a cute chapter to write. Thank you all for the comments and kudos, it means a lot :)


	24. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Spencer have an announcement to make to the team.

You yawn, stretching your arms above your head at your desk. The paperwork in front of you shifts as the air hits it, hitting the base of your computer.

“Are you sleepy or something?” Prentiss asks, eyes shifting to you.

“Eh, not really. I think I’m bored,” you say, readjusting the paper on your desk.

“I think we’re all itching for a case,” she mutters.

Standing, you go to the coffee pot, pouring yourself a generous glass. You stir in your sugar, almost jumping out of your skin when Spencer touches your arm.

“Fuck,” you whisper, turning to look at him. “A heads up would be nice, Spence.”

He smiles lazily, tilting his head. “Sorry.” Leaning in, he kisses your cheek softly.

“We’re set for Dave’s pasta night tonight, right?” You ask him, tapping your left hand against your thigh.

He grabs it, running his thumb over the top of your hand. “Yes. You’re ready to tell them?”

You nod. “I think a little team party at Dave’s mansion plus his pasta makes for a pretty solid night to tell them we’re engaged.”

It had been a week since you’d said yes to Spencer’s proposal, and it had been a week of pure bliss. Hiding the engagement wasn’t easy—Spencer was ready to blurt it out the minute the two of you walked into the bullpen the next day. You wanted to wait for the right moment, though, and Spencer obliged—anything to make you happy. Rossi’s throwing a little get together tonight, and it seemed like the perfect time to spill the beans to the team.

The past week had been filled with unpacking the few boxes you have in his apartment. Moving in with Spencer didn’t feel weird—you’d basically been living with him already, just without all your stuff there. You had already ordered another bookshelf, between your books and Spencer’s his shelves were beginning to overflow. It felt nice—having space in a dresser, a closet, to have your little things occupy his space. Well, it’s not his space anymore. It’s both of yours. And Spencer was over the moon about it. 

You give him a small kiss before going to sit back down, Morgan grumbling to you about PDA as you walk by.

“Give it up, old man,” you say to him, plopping down in your seat. “You’re just salty because you’re not getting any.”

“Hey!” He says defensively, a laugh coming from Prentiss.

“Children, behave,” JJ warns, not bothering to look up from her desk.

You giggle and go back to your paperwork, joking around with the team throughout the day. Garcia’s been on a video game kick—playing Witcher 3 on her Switch every second she isn’t working. 

“No, see sugar, a Witcher is just someone who’s magically altered to be this like…monster hunting machine,” Garcia explains, leaning against your desk. “You have these magic Witcher signs to help you during combat, plus potions and stuff you can brew. Also, the graphics are to die for.”

You let her babble on, and you have to admit, she’s a very convincing person. Almost convincing enough to make you buy your own fucking Switch and get the game. The air in the bullpen is weirdly antsy—the team wants a case, and everyone is getting restless. 

“I hope to see everyone at my mansion tonight,” Rossi says, emphasizing the word. “I’ll be making classic carbonara pancetta, with wine, of course.”

“We’ll all be there, Rossi,” Spencer says, standing up and slinging is bag over his shoulder.

“Your food is too good to pass up,” Garcia says, grinning. 

You laugh. “I haven’t tried it, but I’m ready to. My stomach’s growling already.”

Rossi grins at you and you stand, walking over to Spencer. The two of you are the first to leave, driving the short distance to you guys’ apartment. The thought still makes you giddy—living with the person you love feels freeing. 

As soon as you cross the threshold, Spencer wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a kiss. You grin against his lips, kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling away, he bites your bottom lip softly.

“Welcome home, fiancée.”

You giggle, looking around the place. “It’s our home.”

He hums contentedly. “Yes, it is.”

You pull away from him, giving him a small chaste kiss as you go into the bedroom. “What’s the dress code for Rossi parties?”

“Fancy,” Spencer says, plopping down on the bed.

You rifle through the closet, pursing your lips as you pull out a maroon dress. You don’t wear it often—but tonight felt like a special occasion. It’s form fitting, resting against your curves, which is the other reason you don’t wear it much. You hold it up for Spencer to see.

“Is this too fancy?” 

Spencer sits up, eyes raking over the dress. He shakes his head. “No. I’d prefer not to see you wearing anything, but…”

You bite your bottom lip, laying the dress across the bed. “I’m not showing up to this party naked.”

Spencer grins, standing up and walking over to you. His hands rest on your hips, pushing you backward until your back hits the wall. “I know, but I’d still like to see it.”

His lips attach to your neck and you tilt it to the side, your fingers twisting in his hair. His lips move down your neck, sucking hard on the skin, surely leaving hickeys the team would see later. You let out a small moan, his hands moving to your pants, unbuttoning them and pushing them down. You step out of them, kicking them to the side, a louder moan ringing out around you as he cups your clothed pussy.

His lips move to your jaw, kissing across it until he gets to your lips. The kiss is hot and needy, his tongue slipping into your mouth. His fingers lightly move up and down your covered slit, his lips stifling a moan. He bites your bottom lip and pulls before releasing it, meeting your eyes. 

You yelp slightly as he turns you around, pushing your back until you’re at an angle, your hands and arms resting against the wall. You feel him pull your panties down, air hitting your bare, wet pussy. You can practically hear him smirk.

“So wet for me already, love,” he whispers, his fingers trailing up your inner thighs.

You groan, wanting him to touch you. “Fuck, Spence, please.”

You jump slightly as he runs his fingers up your bare core. “Be a good girl and address me properly.”

Fuck, Spencer must be in _that_ kind of mood today. You whimper softly, trying to press yourself closer to his fingers. “Please, _daddy_.”

Spencer stifles a moan and you grin. His hand comes down on your ass unexpectedly and you cry out softly, biting your bottom lip. 

“I forgot how much I like spanking you,” he muses, a smile in his voice. “You always take it like a good girl.”

“Thank you,” you say, voice breathy.

“Thank you _what_?” 

“Thank you, daddy.”

He’s silent for a moment, your mind racing. What the fuck is he—

“Fuck!” You moan out as you feel his tongue trace up your slit, his tongue starting at your clit and working its way back. 

His hands grip your thighs as his tongue moves back to your clit, taking it between his teeth, a shudder running down your spine. He swirls his tongue around it before moving it to the entrance of your core.

“Do you wanna feel daddy’s tongue?” He breathes out, fingers trailing up and down your outer thighs.

Your fists curl up as your pussy clenches around nothing. “Y-yes, please, daddy.”

He hums, satisfied, and slowly pushes his tongue inside of you. You moan out, pushing yourself back against his face. He groans, the vibration running through your pussy, causing it to clench around his tongue.

“F-fuck, thank you, daddy.”

One of his hands snake around to your clit, rubbing it quickly, the other giving you another small spank on your ass. You bend over further, giving him better access to your pussy as the knot begins to form in your stomach. You let out a small whine as he increases the pressure on your clit.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan out, feeling the knot tighten. 

Spencer removes his tongue from your pussy. “Ask me permission.”

You groan as his speed increases on your clit. “Please, daddy, can I cum?” Your voice is desperate and whiny, aching for release.

“You’ve been a good girl; go ahead and cum on my tongue.”

With that, Spencer’s tongue pushes back inside of you, curling as he thrusts inside. Your nails dig into your palms as you cum, his grip tightening on your thigh, not easing up the pressure on your clit. A moan rips from your throat, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy throbs around his tongue. Panting, you squirm, his finger on your clit too much stimulation.

He removes his finger, his mouth moving to collect all of your cum, swallowing it. He kisses up your body until he gets to your neck again, pressing his lips softly against it. You try to steady your breathing, hearing him unbuckle and unbutton his pants, shoving them down. His hard length pushes against you and you grind against it, earning you a moan.

“My good girl,” he whispers, turning your head to kiss you.

You kiss him back, feeling him rub his dick up your wet slit, brushing your clit. “Fuck, please.”

Spencer grins, moving one of his hands up your arm, spreading your fingers so he can lace them together from the back. “As you wish.”

You giggle at the reference, the sound turning to a mix of both of your moans as he pushes his dick inside of you. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling your bodies flush as he begins to fuck you from behind against the wall. He attaches his lips to your neck again, his teeth scraping down your shoulder.

“Fuck, Spence, you feel so good,” you moan, his nails digging into your waist.

“You’re perfect,” he mutters against your neck, thrusting inside of you deeper to hit your g-spot.

A small whimper flies past your lips and he pants against your neck, high-pitched moans vibrating against the skin. His hand moves from your waist to your clit, whining softly as he presses against it. It’s still sensitive from your previous orgasm and you shut your eyes, squeezing his fingers.

“Such a—fuck—good girl,” he whispers breathily against your neck. “Do you want to cum with me?”

You nod. “P-please.”

He increases his pace, already feeling your orgasm approaching. Your legs begin to shake slightly, your body tensing as you feel his dick twitch inside of you.

“Cum with me, love.”

Your second orgasm is twice as intense as the first, clenching around Spencer’s dick tightly, a string of high-pitched moans leaving your throat. You feel Spencer spill his cum inside of you, his own moans reverberating off your neck as he holds himself in place, his dick throbbing. He pants against your neck, and you turn your head to kiss him. It’s soft, loving. He kisses you back, running his hands through your hair. After a moment, he pulls out, walking the short distance to the bathroom and returning a minute later with a wet wipe, running it between your thighs to clean you up.

You pull your panties up, turning around to wrap your arms around him. “Well, now I’m fucking starving.”

He laughs, kissing you again before his eyes drift to your neck. “Sorry about those.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. I’ll have to cover them up at work, though.”

You go to the bathroom and pee, admiring yourself in the mirror. Dark hickeys cover the left side of your neck, extending past your collarbone. “Fuck.”

You and Spencer get ready quickly. The dress looks good, covering the hickeys on your collarbone, and you slip on a pair of black heels, leaving your hair to hang around your face. He wears a white button up and a pair of black slacks and his Converse—as fancy as Spencer Reid’s going to get. Gripping his hand, you pull him out of the apartment to his car.

The drive to Rossi’s is pretty short, your jaw dropping at the sight of the mansion. How can one person live in such a big place? Spencer parks and you get out, slipping your hand into his. You stop him, rifling through your purse until you pull out the small box the ring is kept in. Opening it, you inhale sharply, the sight of the ring taking your breath away just as much as before. You slip it on, admiring the way it changes color in the light.

“It’s so beautiful,” you whisper, grinning up at Spencer.

“You’re beautiful, and I love you.” 

“I love you.”

He takes your hand again and the two of you walk into Rossi’s, not bothering to knock. He leads you to Rossi’s kitchen, the scent of pancetta and garlic hitting you.

“The lovebirds are here!” Morgan calls out, the rest of the team yelling their hellos.

Rossi grins at you. “Welcome! I’m glad you can attend your first Rossi pasta night.”

You laugh, keeping your left hand behind your waist. “I am, too. I’m _starving_ , and it smells delicious in here.”

Hotch grins. “You haven’t lived until you taste his food.”

“Yeah, his wives were really lucky,” Prentiss says, holding her wine glass up before taking a sip.

You giggle. “That they were.”

You mingle with the team, and they end up telling the story from their first pasta night at Rossi’s. It was shortly after Emily came back from the dead—yeah, a thing you didn’t even know happened. Eventually, Rossi announces dinner is served—and your mouth practically waters as he sets the pasta on the plate.

It’s nice bonding with the team like this—as one of them instead of just Spencer’s girlfriend. Well, now fiancée, but they didn’t know that yet. Spencer is right—they’re a family. Your family now, too. You sip your wine as you eat, flavors of pancetta, garlic, and cheese hitting your tongue as soon as you take a bite.

“This is delicious, oh my god.” You smile at Rossi, his own smile wide across his face.

“It’s an old family recipe,” he says.

After dinner, the team talks in the kitchen, Rossi refilling wine glasses. Spencer stands at your right side, gripping your waist. You look up at him, eyebrows raised, and he nods.

You clear your throat. “Uh, Spencer and I actually have an announcement.”

The whole team’s eyes turn toward you and you look up at Spencer.

“We’re engaged!” You hold up your left hand, flashing the engagement ring Spencer got you.

Garcia’s mouth drops open. “Oh my god, I call maid of honor. I call it.”

“How long have you guys been hiding this from us?” Prentiss says, walking over to hug you.

You grin as you hug her. “Just a week.”

Rossi walks over to you, giving you a kiss on each cheek. “Farai una bellissima sposa!” 

You giggle, watching Morgan slap Spencer on the back. “You did it, kid. I’m proud of you.” Morgan hugs you, squeezing you tight. 

“Welcome to the family,” Hotch says as he hugs you, a grin on his face.

JJ pulls you into a tight embrace. “I’m so happy for you two!”

Spencer leans down and kisses you softly and you smile up at him.

“This calls for a toast!” Rossi calls out, holding up this wine glass.

The rest of the team follows his lead.

“To Spencer and Y/n. Congratulations. Congratulazioni!”

The rest of the team cheers and you all clink glasses before taking you all take sips of your wine. You look around at the people around you; your arm snaked around Spencer’s waist. Here, you feel like family, and you couldn’t feel happier in the presence of all of your friends.

No.

Your _family_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, such a cute chapter!  
> Don't worry, it's not the end yet! I plan on going to 30 chapters, maybe a little less. So there's still more to come! :)


	25. Little Dove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team gets a new case in your hometown.

“We have a case?” 

You rush into the roundtable room, Spencer on your heels. Prentiss turns around in her chair, nodding at you. You raise your eyebrows as you sit down next to her, Spencer sitting next to you. The rest of the team files in, JJ coming last.

“There have been a series of shootings in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, the first one occurring Tuesday night, with subsequent shootings on Thursday, and one on Sunday.”

_Gatlinburg?_ Your blood runs cold.

“A spree killer?” Rossi asks, flipping through his tablet.

JJ nods. “The first was at a park, the second was at a bank, and the third was at a diner. The local PD had trouble connecting all of them until they realized one common factor.”

Spencer tilts his head. “The unsub doesn’t harm the children?”

“Not a single one. Most of the killings have been men, only a couple have been women.”

“Maybe the unsub is targeting the men,” Prentiss says. “He might’ve suffered a recent stressor caused by a male that’s triggering these attacks.”

“And he’s guaranteed a kill by targeting public places,” Morgan wonders aloud. “What time are the attacks usually occurring?”

“Between eleven and one pm—lunch time.” JJ raises her eyebrows. 

“Times when places are guaranteed to be busy,” Hotch says. “Did any survivors see what the unsub looked like?”

JJ shakes her head. “They all say the same thing—black mask, black clothes. No other description.”

“Garcia, check the surveillance cameras from the bank or the diner and see if you can find anything,” Hotch orders.

“Ask and you shall receive,” she quips, standing up and exiting the room.

“Y/l/n? You’ve been pretty quiet.” 

You look up, tuning back into the conversation. “Oh, uh, I need to call my dad.”

Prentiss’ eyes widen. “That’s right, you’re from Gatlinburg.”

You look at Hotch and he nods. You excuse yourself and exit the roundtable room, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You press your dad’s contact and hold the phone up to your ear, holding your breath.

After two rings, his deep voice comes through the phone. “Honey! Hey!”

You exhale, a smile breaking out on your face. “Hey, dad.”

“What’s up? How’re you? You usually don’t call twice in three days.”

It’s true. You’ve had weekly phone calls with your dad since you started college—he wanted to be kept in the loop of your life. Your last call had been Saturday; you’d told him about the team’s reaction to your engagement—which he is super excited for. It turns out, Spencer had actually called him when he bought the ring and basically asked him for his blessing. Super old school, but he’d gotten it nonetheless. 

“I’m fine, dad,” you tell him. “I just wanted to call and see if you were okay. We actually have a case in Gatlinburg, so I’ll probably be there later tonight. Maybe we can meet tomorrow morning for breakfast? You can finally meet Spencer.”

You can hear the smile in your dad’s voice. “I’d love that, sweetie. I miss you, you know.”

“I miss you, too, dad.” You take a deep breath. “Maybe we can meet at The Maple? You know how much I love their waffles.”

He laughs. “The Maple it is. How about nine?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow, dad.”

“See you. Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you, too.”

With that, you hang up, taking another deep breath. Your dad is safe. Nothing to worry about. 

You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn around, coming face to face with Spencer. You smile at him, his hand tracing up the curve of your neck to your cheek.

“He’s okay?”

You nod. “He’s okay. I actually told him we’d meet him for breakfast tomorrow at nine? Is that okay?”

Spencer’s smile grows. “That’s perfect.”

“He already loves you,” you say, rolling your eyes.

You spot Hotch looking at the two of you and you smile at Spencer again before brushing past him. You look up at Hotch, smiling softly.

“Is he okay?” Hotch asks.

“Yeah, he’s fine. He, um, asked if it was okay that we do breakfast tomorrow morning? He wants to meet Spencer.”

Hotch thinks for a moment. “That’s fine. Come back to the police station as soon as you’re done. Oh, and we’re leaving in five.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You and Spencer walk to his car, grabbing your go bags and lacing your fingers together as you walk to the jet. He squeezes your hand and you glance at him, a smile on your face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“I’m not allowed look at my beautiful fiancée? That’s messed up.” He feigns shock and you pull your hand away from his, hitting him in the chest. 

“Oh, shut up.”

You giggle as you board the jet, taking a seat across from Rossi and Morgan. Spencer sits next to you, already pulling out a book to read.

“Is your dad okay?” Rossi asks, folding his hand on the table.

“Yeah, he’s alright. I’m sorry I left the briefing early,” you apologize, tapping your fingers against the table.

Morgan shakes his head. “It’s alright, we get it. We all have people we care about.”

Hotch speaks up from the back of the jet. “When we get to Gatlinburg, we need to try to narrow in Victimology. Reid, JJ, you work on that. Morgan and I will start on a geographical profile. Prentiss, Rossi, and Y/l/n, I need you all to interview survivors, see if they can remember anything more specific about the unsub.”

“Yes, sir,” you all say in unison.

You rest your head on Spencer’s shoulder, closing your eyes. You’re not sure when you finally fall asleep, but you eventually slip into a dream.

_Your dad is standing at the end of a long hallway. It’s cold and dark. You smile when you see him and begin running toward him, but it’s like you’re moving through molasses. The air is thick, and you struggle to move your limbs. The more steps you take, the longer the hallway seems to get._

_“Dad!” You yell out, watching him turn his head toward you._

_He smiles at you, holding his hand up, waving._

_You try to push your muscles to go faster, wanting so badly to hug him. All of the sudden, it’s like you’re put into hyper speed, appearing at the end of the hallway. You’re dad’s not there. You look around and your eyes land on your dad on the other end of the hallway. He waves at you again and you begin running._

_But you’re not running, you’re going too slow--_

You jolt awake, inhaling sharply as you open your eyes. Spencer squeezes your hand, Morgan and Rossi’s eyebrows raised as they look at you.

“Bad dream?” Rossi asks.

You nod, removing your head from Spencer’s shoulder. “Bad dream.” You turn your head, looking into Spencer’s eyes. 

He kisses your forehead. “You’re alright. It’s just a dream. We’re about to touch down.”

Eventually, the jet touches down, and the team files out, heading to their different destinations. You tag along with Prentiss and Rossi, going to interview the different survivors. There aren’t many—mostly women and children. The list is short. 

You let Rossi and Prentiss lead the interviews, and you decide to sit back and watch. You study the questions they ask, how they ask them, their body language. Most of them say the same thing: a man wearing a black mask, about 5’9”. You’re on the second to last victim—a woman in her early twenties. 

“Do you remember him saying anything? Anything at all?” Prentiss asks.

She thinks for a moment, eyes downcast. Eventually, she shifts her gaze back up, looking at Prentiss. “Um…right before he s-shot the guy next to me, he said s-something.”

“Do you remember what it was?” Rossi asks softly. 

She nods slowly. “H-he said, ‘I bet you regret not really seeing me now.’ And then, a-a name. I’m not sure if it’s a last name or a first name, but…”

“What was the name?” 

“Foster.”

Prentiss and Rossi exchange a glance before thanking the woman.

“Let’s get back to Hotch.”

“Are you nervous?” You ask Spencer, hand in his as you walk toward The Maple.

He shakes his head. “A little, but I think it’s mostly excitement.”

He untangles his hand from yours and pulls the door open. You’re immediately hit with the scent of breakfast food—waffles, sweet syrup, bacon. You look at the rows of booths and spot your dad sitting in the back.

You feel like he’s aged a lifetime since you last saw him. His hair is gray and thick, his eyes the color of yours, his lips always curled into a little smile. The wrinkles on his face had seemed to deepen since you saw him last. He’s wearing his usual—a flannel and jeans, his brown work boots laced up on his feet. He sees you and his smile widens, standing up immediately.

You wrap him in a big hug, inhaling the familiar scent of bonfire smoke and pine. He squeezes you tightly.

“Oh, sweetie, I missed you.”

You pull away, grinning at him. “I missed you, too, dad.” You release him, looking at Spencer. “This is my fiancé, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Spencer reaches out his hand but your dad surprises him, pulling him into a big hug like he’d done with you. Spencer hugs him back, laughing as your dad wraps him up. After a moment, he releases Spencer.

“It’s nice to finally meet the man who’s making my daughter so happy.”

You all sit at the booth, the waitress coming over. You all order coffee, and you don’t even bother looking at the menu. You already know what you’re getting. 

“So, how is the case you guys are working on? Or wait, you probably can’t discuss that stuff with me,” your dad says, laughing softly.

“We can’t really discuss details, but it’s going alright,” you answer, taking a sip of your coffee. 

Your dad grabs your left hand, admiring the ring Spencer had gotten you. When he looks at you again, his smile is a little sad.

“Your mom would have loved this ring.” His voice is thick.

You squeeze his hand. “I know.”

The waitress walks back over and you order your favorite—their waffles and hash browns. Spencer orders French toast, and your dad orders the same as you. After a moment, your dad turns to Spencer.

“I just wanted to thank you, you know, for being there for her when I couldn’t be.” Spencer smiles at his words. “It’s hard living so far away from my little girl. Thank you for being there for her.”

Spencer looks at you, reaching over to take your hand. You squeeze it. “I love her. I’ll always be there for her. She’s been there for me, too.”

The grin on your dad’s face grows. “Well, nonetheless, I’m proud to call you my future son-in-law. You’re family.”

Spencer looks surprised, but he hides it with a smile. “Thank you.”

The waitress sets your food in front of you and your dad laughs his hearty laugh. “Alright, enough sappy talk. Let’s dig in.”

You and Spencer laugh before you all dig into your food. It’s just as good as you remember—the waffles sweet, the hash browns savory. The three of you catch up as you eat, sharing stories. After a while, the waitress lays the check down. You get out your card but your dad shoos you away.

“No, it’s my treat. It’s my little present to you, honey.”

You smile at him. “Fine, dad. But I get to pay next time.”

He pays and you check the time. “Shit, we have to go, Spence. Hotch needs us back at the station.”

You get up, your dad following suit. You wrap him in a big hug, squeezing him tight.

“I love you, dad.”

“I love you, little dove.”

You smile at the nickname—something he rarely calls you anymore. Your mom made it up when you were little. You had been obsessed with wanting to fly when you were little, even going so far as to try to create your own pair of wings. Your mom had given you that nickname and it stuck ever since. You release him and he sits back at the booth.

“I’ll call you later, okay?” He says. “I gotta stick around for a minute. I’m meeting a friend.”

“Okay, be safe. I love you.” 

“I love you.”

You wave goodbye at him and grab Spencer’s hand as you walk back to the car. You climb in, full and content, leaning your head back against the headrest.

“Hey, can we stop at the hotel? I gotta grab a hair tie. It’s too hot for my hair to be down,” you ask him.

He reaches over and grabs your hand. “Sure.”

You quickly stop at the hotel, running up to your room to brush your hair into a high bun, needing it off your face. Afterwards, you and Spencer rush back to the station.

To say it’s a shit show is an understatement. The whole station is buzzing, people rushing around inside like the whole fucking place was on fire. You and Spencer move quickly to the back room where your team is standing. 

“What happened?” You ask, eyes sweeping to the TV in front of them.

The whole team turns toward you, looking at you before averting their gaze. Hotch steps forward and you walk over to him, looking past him to the screen of the TV.

“Y/n.”

His voice is quiet and you look back at his face, his usual stern expression replaced with a soft one.

“There was another shooting.”

Your blood runs cold and your stomach turns. You don’t even listen to his next words—you don’t need to. Your gaze lingers on the TV, swallowing the breakfast threatening to make a reappearance. 

_”There was a shooting at twelfth and Main today at around eleven-thirty. The popular diner, The Maple, is a local hotspot…”_

Pictures of the victims appear on the screen one by one, and then you see it. The thick gray hair. The kind eyes. The smile you so often associate with him. The flannel. 

His face is the last image you see before you pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, I'm sorry I'm hurting the Reader, but I promise it'll get better.


	26. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team hunts for the man who killed your father.

“We should send her home.”

“No, Morgan, she _needs_ to be here.”

“She can’t think straight right now, Reid. She just suffered a major loss.”

“It’s Hotch’s decision—not yours.”

“Hey guys, I’m right here. You can stop whispering about me. You’re pretty bad at it anyway.”

Your voice is scratchy; ringing out around the room of the police station the team is in. Six heads whip around to look at you, almost forgetting you were there. Concern flashes in Spencer’s eyes and he looks around at the rest of the team.

It had been two hours and fifty-one minutes since you had passed out. Two hours and fifty-one minutes since you lost one of your rocks in the world. Two hours and fifty-one minutes since your dad died. 

After you had woken up, you didn’t cry. You still haven’t cried. You just sat at the table the team was doing research on earlier, resting your arms on the table. You feel numb. The worst kind of numb. The kind of numb that radiates down to your fingertips. If someone shot you right now, you doubt you’d feel it. Part of you hates that feeling—you _want_ to feel something. Angry or sad or regretful or _something_.

Prentiss and Hotch had gone to the crime scene to talk to the survivors after you had woken up. _Survivors_. The word almost made your stomach churn. Spencer had sat with you while the rest of the team researched. So far, they had no solid leads—nothing to go on except a height and that he has a vendetta against someone named Foster. Whatever the fuck _that_ means. 

Morgan averts his gaze, staring at the floor. You don’t even need to profile him—you know he feels guilty. “Sorry.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. I want to stay.”

Hotch steps forward, voice soft. “If you don’t feel like—“

“Hotch.” You look him in the eyes. “I need to see the man who killed my father get arrested. I need to look him in the eyes. I want to see his fucking face behind bars.” You don’t even care that you just cussed in front of your boss. That's the least of your problems right now. 

He’s silent for a moment, thinking. “Fine. No going out in the field for you, though.”

“I don’t even have my gun, yet.” You had passed your gun qualification, but had gotten pulled away so suddenly for this case, the thought of actually going to pick up your gun completely slipping your mind.

“You do, actually,” Hotch says. “Strauss gave it to me before we left.”

“Oh.” Your voice is small.

He crosses the room to a small bag on the floor, kneeling down for a second before standing back up. He walks to the table, holding out a black gun for you to take. You take it, cold against your hands. Clearing your throat, you put it in the empty holster on your belt. In a small, weird way, you feel complete, like an official agent. 

“Are you sure it’s okay for her to stay on this case?” JJ asks, concern lacing her tone.

“If she thinks she can do it, she can,” Rossi states, giving you a small smile.

You smile softly back at him. “I don’t want to go out into the field anyway. I’m perfectly fine staying here and using my very smart brain to help get a lead in this case.” You don’t say the other reason you want to stay on the case—it’ll distract you from your own thoughts.

“She can help us narrow the geographical profile,” Spencer pipes up, crossing the room to stand closer to the table. 

Hotch inhales deeply before turning to the room. “Okay. What do we know?”

“He’s a narcissist,” Emily says. “He thinks he’s the biggest person in the room.”

Rossi stands. “He has no empathy or remorse for the people he’s killed. He’s a psychopath.”

“He targets men. My guess is a man in his life has wronged him in some way: passing him up for a promotion, ridiculed him in some way, something along the lines of that.” Your voice is quiet, but firm. 

“He probably works an office job—anything nine to five where he gets at least an hour break. That gives him an hour to drive to the site, make the kills, and get back to his normal life.”

“All of the places he’s hit have only been a few miles apart,” Spencer notices. “He spends approximately thirteen minutes at every site.”

“Which leaves him forty-seven minutes to drive to the site, drive back, and probably grab lunch somewhere.” Morgan moves to sit at the table across from you.

“I think we’re looking at an unsub who works within fifteen miles of The Maple,” Spencer says.

Hotch pulls out his phone, pressing a few buttons before waiting. The phone rings for about three seconds before Garcia’s voice rings out around the room.

“Oh my god, how is she?” 

You suppress a smile. “I’m fine, Garcia.”

“Garcia, I need you track down any office jobs within a fifteen mile radius of The Maple,” Hotch says, quickly changing the subject. 

“Hotch, I thought you were going to give me something challenging to do,” she mutters. You hear typing on the other end and a pause. “Can you give me anything to narrow it down?”

“Anything nine to five, baby girl,” Morgan pipes up.

“Okay, narrows it down to five offices.”

“Send them our way.”

“Already sent.”

Hotch hangs up the phone and slips his phone back into his pocket. Spencer sighs, taking a seat next to you, rubbing your thigh lightly. The gesture’s comforting, and you look at him, smiling softly. 

“We need visit the offices Garcia sent us, see if anyone knows any man that matches our profile. Prentiss, you’re with Morgan. Rossi, you’re with JJ and I. Reid, you stay here.” 

Spencer nods and you sigh, leaning back in your chair. The team files out and Spencer’s hand finds yours, squeezing it.

“I know you’re tired of people asking, but—“

“I’m fine, Spence.” You give him a strained smile. “As fine as I can be. I think I’m still processing.”

“You…you haven’t cried yet,” he notices. “I-I mean, everyone processes in their own way, so I’m not saying you _should_. It’s just…it’s okay if you do.”

You run your hand up to his cheek, rubbing your thumb over it softly. “I know. Maybe I will. I…I don’t know why I haven’t. I don’t know. I just feel numb, I guess.”

“I know how you feel,” he whispers, leaning in to give your forehead a small kiss.

You stare at the map in front of you of your hometown, eyes grazing over the stars of the locations the unsub had hit. You scrunch your brows together, frowning.

“What?” Spencer asks, following your gaze.

“I think the unsub knows— _knew_ my dad.” 

“What makes you think that?”

You think for a moment. “Don’t you think it’s weird that the ‘friend’ he was meeting up with showed up right before the attack?”

“Maybe it’s just a coincidence,” Spencer reassures you, rubbing your arm. “That’s a big step to take with no evidence.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I just…I just want us to catch him.”

You lean back in your chair again, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. Spencer’s hand moves to your thigh, still rubbing it comfortingly. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, your phone rings.

You answer. “Hello?”

“Hey, sweet girl. I was just checking on you.” Garcia’s voice is a little hesitant.

You’re silent for a moment. “I’m…okay. I’m with Spencer.”

“Are you still on the case?”

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, smiling softly. “Thank you, for checking up on me.”

“Of course! You’re…you’re a part of this family now. Family looks after family.”

You grin. “Thanks. Oh, and Garcia?”

“Yes?”

“You’re gonna make a kick ass maid of honor.”

She squeals and you giggle before hanging up, looking over at Spencer. You fiddle with the ring on your left ring finger, running your thumb along the sides of it.

He grins at you. “I’m making Morgan my best man.”

“God, our bachelor and bachelorette parties are going to…be wild.” You chuckle softly. “Spencer?”

“Hm?”

“No strippers.”

He scoffs. “I couldn’t even think of _looking_ at another woman.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re so cheesy. I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Did you find him?”

Hotch nods. “I think so. He fits the profile at least.”

“What’s his name?” You stand, leaning against the table with your hands.

“Tyler Miller.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. No one you know. “So you’re going to go arrest him, right?”

Rossi nods. “He’s single. Lives alone. It’s past five, so he should be home.”

The team is strapping on their bulletproof vests, Spencer included. You’re going to stay at the station—alone—while the team goes to Miller’s house to arrest him. Part of you wanted to go, the gun strapped against your hip seeming to burn through your clothes into your skin. You know you can’t trust yourself though—you know as soon as you see his face your fingers would _itch_ to pull the trigger. 

You give Spencer a reassuring squeeze of his hand as he exits the room. Hotch lingers behind, staring at you.

“Can I help you?” You ask. You hope your tone isn’t too snarky—Hotch is already being too nice to you by letting you stay on the case.

He walks over to you. “I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

You’re silent for a moment. “Thank you.”

Hotch averts his gaze for a moment before looking back up. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

You don’t respond, biting the inside of your cheek. “I have a favor.”

“Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this favor?”

You sigh, tightening your ponytail. “I want to talk to him.”

“The unsub? Absolute no—“

“Please, Hotch?” Your voice is pleading. “I won’t harm him. You can even take my gun. I just…I want to exchange a few words with him.”

His eyes seem to bore into you. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes with him.”

“Thank you.”

He nods and brushes past you as he walks out. You’re left standing in the middle of the room, the rest of your team going to arrest the man who murdered your father. 

You pass the time by reading Game of Thrones. You had slipped it into Spencer’s bag before you had left for the case, just in case you had time to read. It’s a distraction, at least. Being pulled into the fantasy world of dragons, trickery, and violence. When you were in high school, you used to watch Game of Thrones with your dad—it used to be your favorite show. You would gather around the TV on Thursday nights to watch the new episodes. Season six was your favorite. After you moved out for college, that was one of the things you missed—watching new episodes with your dad. 

You raise your eyes from the book, sighing. You had chosen to read because you thought it would distract you, but here you are. The complete opposite of that. You bite the inside of your cheek and continue reading.

You’re at the point in the book when Ned confronts Cersei about fucking Jaime when the door opens. You close the book, head whipping immediately to see Spencer’s figure walking through the doorway.

You stand, furrowing your brows. “Did you get him?”

Spencer clicks his tongue. “We got him.”

“Did he confess?” You ask.

Spencer nods. “Yep. He got passed up for a big promotion—VP of his branch. His boss’ name was James Foster.”

You throw the book back in Spencer’s bag, brushing past him through the doorway to the main area of the police station. Your eyes find Hotch and you beeline toward him, crossing your arms.

“Where is he?”

He looks down at you, raising his eyebrows. “He’s being taken into an interrogation room.”

“When can I speak to him?”

“You’re speaking to whom?” Rossi asks, joining the conversation.

“She wants to talk to the unsub.”

“And you’re going to let her?” Morgan asks, crossing his arms. “You’re gonna let her be alone in the room with the man who killed her father?”

You scoff. “Jesus, Morgan, I’m not gonna hurt him.” You undo the clasp from your holster and take your gun out, offering it to Hotch.

“Calm down, Morgan,” Prentiss says. “She needs closure. She needs the last word. You of all people should know about that.”

You look up at Hotch again. “Will you take me to him?”

Hotch nods, leading you to a back room in the station. You ignore the rapid beating of your heart, looking through the glass to find the most pathetic man you’ve ever seen. He’s skinny—almost like deathly skinny. His hair is close-shaven to his head, his green eyes seeming to sink into his face. He’s wearing an olive green jacket over a white shirt. His hands are on the table in front of him, cuffed.

You hear footsteps and turn your head to see Spencer approaching you.

“Are you sure you want to go in there?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He gives you a small kiss before pulling away, glancing at Hotch. You place your hand on the cold metal handle of the door, inhaling deeply before turning it. 

Tyler Miller turns his dull green eyes to you. A smile appears on his face as you take a seat in front of him, meeting his gaze unwavering. You fold your hands in front of you, leaning back in the seat. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Y/n Y/l/n.”

You tilt your head at him, not speaking. Does this guy know you?

“You wouldn’t remember me. I haven’t seen you since you were real small. But you look the same—you look like your daddy.”

You flare your nostrils at him at the mention of your dad. Staying silent, his eyes search yours.

“I have to admit, I didn’t plan on killing him.” He tilts his head. “But it did bring me immense joy. Your father was weak.” He practically spits the word. “He was too soft. He didn’t act like a real man. He _wasn’t_ a real man. He was—“

“I deal with men like you all the time.” Your voice is low when you finally speak, cutting him off. “You think you’re the hottest ticket in town, don’t you? You’re a classic narcissist with a big, inflated ego. Add a gun to that mix and you just think you’re invincible.” You swallow, eyes never leaving his. “You killed over thirty people because, what, you didn’t like your boss? You got passed up on that promotion and couldn’t move on with your life, so instead you take it out on everyone around you? You think this makes you _special_. Let me tell you something.” You lean forward toward him, voice ice cold. “You’re _nothing_. You’re _no one_. Your name will fade away into nothing until no one remembers who Tyler Miller is. You’re insignificant.” Anger flashes through him, his wrists straining the handcuffs. “Now you’re going to rot in a cell for the rest of your life, having to live with the fact that you don’t matter.” You stand, hands still on the table, a small smirk on your lips. “And that thought alone gives me more relief than killing you ever could.”

You stand fully, removing your hands from the table. You finally break your gaze, turning your back to him and exiting the room. The door shuts, your eyes landing on Hotch, then moving to Spencer. 

Then, you break.

A sob catches in your throat, the grief slamming into like a train. You feel the hot stream of tears fall down your cheeks, and in two strides, Spencer is in front of you, wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your body trembling as you cry. It doesn’t seem to stop, your heart twisting inside of your chest as your fiancé holds you.

“My-my dad is d-dead,” you cry into his neck. “He died.”

One of Spencer’s hands is at your hair, holding your head gently; the other rubbing up and down your back soothingly. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispers, his own voice breaking. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter! I love that the Reader is an absolute badass.   
> Hope y'all enjoyed. :)


	27. Do You Feel Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two weeks since you're dad's death, and you're ready to go back to work.

“You come back to work today.”

Spencer’s breath tickles your ear, his low voice rumbling around you. He rubs little circles on your left side, his other hand wrapped around your neck. Your eyes flutter open, but you hadn’t been sleeping. 

“I know.”

“Do you think you’re ready? I know Hotch offered you more time off but—“

“Spence, it’s been two weeks. I _need_ to go back to work.” You use your hand to pull his arm around you, snuggling deeper into him.

It has been two weeks since Gatlinburg. The funeral had been a week ago—close casket, partially because you hadn’t been able to get your dad’s body back because it was part of “evidence.” The whole team had come, Spencer holding one of your hands and Garcia holding the other. Spencer was right—Hotch had offered you more time to grieve, to wallow. But you couldn’t wallow anymore; you _have_ to do something.

“Okay,” he says softly, planting on small kiss on your neck. “I’m glad you’re coming back. I’ve missed you.”

“Baby, I live with you,” you giggle, a smile spreading across your face. 

“Well, I’ve missed working with you,” he replies, his fingers roaming up and down your abdomen.

His touch is soft, running over the fabric of your shirt. You inhale, eyes fluttering shut again as you push your ass back onto his crotch. He tries to suppress a moan, and ultimately fails, his lips landing on your neck again.

“We—we shouldn’t,” Spencer says. “You’re still…”

“Spencer, please,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “I’m done grieving. I need _you_.” 

His hand moves to your boobs, squeezing them softly. You press harder against his crotch, feeling it harden, pressing against your panties. His hands slip under your shirt, fingers seeming to burn your skin as he finds your breasts again, fingers pinching your nipples softly. You turn your head, Spencer lifting himself up on his right elbow, leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss is soft with a little urgency behind it, your back arching slightly as he pulls your nipples, grinding your ass against him slowly. He groans as he slips his tongue into your mouth, his fingers running down to grip your side. Breaking the kiss, you bite his bottom lip softly, a soft moan leaving Spencer.

“Fuck me in this position,” you request, a little smile on your face. 

Spencer attaches his lips to yours again as his hand travels down, slipping into the waistband of your panties. His fingers find your wet slit before rubbing your sensitive clit, swallowing your moan. You lift up your left leg slightly, hitching part of your foot behind Spencer’s calf. He rubs your clit in fast circles, breaking the kiss as you moan against his lips.

“Yeah? Do you like that, sweetheart?” He breathes against your lips, emitting another moan from you.

“Y-yes,” you mumble, your pussy clenching as he pushes his covered dick against your ass.

His fingers disappear from your clit, slipping out of your waistband. You almost protest, but stop when you hear him taking off his pants. You push your own panties down, kicking them off the bed. Spencer’s left hand finds the soft skin of your left inner thigh, pulling it up slightly. His hand drifts down to grip under your knee, holding your leg up. You lean your head back against his neck as you feel his hard dick run up and down your slit.

“Tell me you want it,” he mumbles, lips finding your ear.

You swallow, bucking your hips slightly against his dick. “Please, Spence.”

Your loud moan echoes around the room as he pushes himself inside of you, pleasure taking over your body. You clench around him, his moan ringing by your ear. He bites the shell of it softly as he begins thrusting in and out of you slowly, still holding your thigh up. 

“Fuck,” you groan softly, turning your head slightly to look at him.

He looks down at you, mouth slightly agape as he fucks you. After a split second, he crashes his lips into yours, this kiss more urgent and hot. His hand leaves your leg, and you hook it around the back of his own as his fingers find your clit again. He rubs it slowly, thrusting into you faster. You clench tightly around him, your hand going to grip his forearms tightly as he rubs your clit. Breaking the kiss, you lean back, the top of your head right under your chin.

“Fuck, baby, _please_ ,” you beg. “Just like that!”

Your words make him moan, your name slipping out of his mouth as he continues fucking you at the same pace. You feel your orgasm bubbling in your lower stomach, Spencer’s fingers on your clit pressing down a little harder.

“I want you to cum, sweetheart.” His voice is breathy and low.

Your right hand finds his resting at the back of your neck, lacing your fingers together as he pushes you closer to your release. He increases the pace of his thrusts, his moan like music to your fucking ears. You whimper as you feel your impending orgasm, your grip on his fingers tightening.

“That’s it, baby, cum—fuck—cum on my dick,” he whispers, seeming to push into you deeper than before.

You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, your legs shaking slightly as it hits you. A string of moans leave you, your grip on Spencer’s hand so tight it’s a wonder you don’t break his fingers. His fingers leave your sensitive clit, his hand snaking up to grab your right wrist, bringing your hand to rest flat on your stomach, his hand resting on top of yours. Your breathing seems to stop as you realize what he’s doing.

You can _feel_ him every time he thrusts in, his hand keeping yours in place so you can feel it every time. You seem to find your breath again, panting as you feel your stomach bulge slightly with every thrust in. He wants you to feel it.

“Fu-uck,” you groan, his eyes landing on yours as you look up at him.

A small smirk plays on his lips, a small sheen of sweat covering his forehead. “Do you feel me, sweetheart?”

You can only moan in response, your body over stimulated as Spencer nears his own orgasm. You feel his dick twitch inside of you, thrusting in the deepest it’s gone, your hand resting over the bulge in your stomach as he leaves it there. You keep your eyes locked with his as you feel his orgasm hit him. Your name tumbles out of his mouth as he shoots his cum deep inside of you, your own whimpers flying past your lips. His dick throbs inside of you as he slowly thrusts a couple more times, lacing his fingers together with yours over your stomach. His breathing slows, and he pulls out of you slowly, planting small kisses on your cheeks and lips. 

“Stay here,” he whispers against your lips.

He gets up and you oblige, catching your breath as he disappears into the bathroom. He comes back with a wet washcloth, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of you. The washcloth is warm against your skin as he wipes between your legs, leaning in to give you another soft kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers, grinning.

“I love you,” you reply, kissing his nose.

He laughs as he stands back up, throwing the washcloth in the dirty clothes hamper. He begins pulling on clothes—a white button up that hugs his lean frame, dark blue pants, Converse. You stand as well, your muscles aching slightly as you dig through the closet. You decide on a dark purple blouse tucked into a pair of black high-waist pants. You slip on a pair of simple black heels, the look accentuated by the opal engagement ring on your finger. You slip your gun holster around your hips, sliding your gun into the pocket.

“You sure you’re ready?” Spencer asks, his hands resting on your hips.

You turn around, smiling up at him. “I’m fine, Spence. Let’s go to work.”

Half an hour later, the two of you are walking into the BAU, coffee in hand. You push open the doors to the bullpen, grinning as your eyes find Garcia.

She squeals, running over and throwing her arms around you. “Hello, gorgeous. I’m glad you’re back. The office is boring without you.”

You giggle. “I’m glad to be back, hot stuff.”

Morgan raises his eyebrows at you. “Welcome back.”

“Glad to be here,” you say, smiling at him.

Hotch approaches you, intense gaze fixed on your face. “Welcome back.”

“I’m glad to be back, sir.” You take a sip of your coffee.

A rare smile crosses his face. “We’re glad to have you back. And not a moment too soon. We have a case.”

You grab Spencer’s hand, pulling him behind you as you meet the rest of the team in the roundtable room. You sit, smiling at waving at Prentiss and JJ. Garcia passes around tablets, save Spencer, who gets the hard files. Pictures fly up on the screen behind Garcia, your face scrunching.

“Kids?” You groan, sighing as you look down at your tablet.

Spencer’s eyes soften and he moves his hand to rub your thigh comfortingly. Garcia clears her throat, uncomfortable with the images behind her.

“Two kids have been found dead in the outskirts of Las Vegas. The cause of death is drowning. Both kids are around seven—both boys.” 

You inhale sharply. “Any evidence of—“

“No,” she says softly. “No sexual assault.”

“So the unsub isn’t a sexual sadist,” JJ says.

“The families were all at parks when the children were taken.”

“A common place for abductions,” Spencer says, pursing his lips. “Were the parks close together?”

“They were within a few miles of each other.”

“Each kid goes missing on a Saturday afternoon, and so far, they’ve both come up dead seven days after their abduction. Las Vegas PD called us this morning—another kid has gone missing. Charlie Tucker, seven, went missing Saturday from Pomme Park, only seven miles away from the last abduction.”

Hotch stands. “We have five days to find this boy. Wheels up in thirty.”

You begin walking toward the exit of the BAU to get your go bag. Spencer’s hand wrapping around your bicep stops you.

“I’ll go get the bags,” he says, kissing your forehead as he walks by.

You stay back, leaning against your desk. You look at Spencer walk away, Prentiss coming to stand next to you.

“I bet he’s just being weird because we’re going to Vegas.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Why would…?” Then it hits you. “Ah. His mom.”

“He’s told you about her right?” Prentiss asks.

“Yeah, he’s told me about her. He told me he feels guilty.” You purse your lips. “He shouldn’t.”

She laughs. “That’s Spencer for you—always blaming himself when he shouldn’t.”

You hum in agreement as she walks away, Spencer reappearing a few moments later with your bags. He hands yours to you and you smile, leaning in and giving him a quick kiss. 

“Let’s go.” You grab his hand tightly as you walk out to the tarmac, walking up the ramp of the jet.

You settle in next to Spencer for the ride, the two of you sitting toward the back of the jet. You lean your head against his shoulder, his cheek resting on top of your head. After a moment, you raise your head, looking at him.

“So we’re going to Vegas,” you whisper, raising your eyebrows. 

“Yes,” Spencer replies, biting the inside of his cheek.

“How do you feel about that?” You ask, trying not to bring his mother up yourself.

“I mean, kids are dying, so I’m not too stoked,” he says, turning his head to look at you. 

“No, Spence, I mean…” you lace your fingers with his. “Your mom is in Vegas.”

“I know,” he whispers, squeezing your hand. 

“Am I finally going to get to meet her?” You ask, searching his eyes. “I mean, we’re getting _married_ and I haven’t met her yet.”

Spencer smiles. “You _want_ to meet my mom?”

“Spencer, she’s your mother. She created you. Of course I want to meet her.” You grin, sticking your tongue between your teeth.

“Then okay. We can go see her _after_ we solve the case, okay?” He leans in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Fine,” you respond, grinning up at him. 

The plane ride to Vegas is a long one, and you spend most of it asleep on Spencer’s shoulder. Toward the end of the flight, he shakes you away gently.

“Come on, we’re gonna make a plan,” he says, standing up.

You stand, stretching your stiff muscles as you go to stand in front of the team. Hotch eyes everyone, his face serious.

“When we get to Vegas, Morgan, Y/l/n, and I will go to each abduction site and visit the dump sites. Rossi and JJ will talk with the families; see if they can remember anything. Prentiss and Reid, stay at the station and try to nail down a geological profile. We have less than five days to find this boy—I don’t want another child dead. We cannot let this unsub kidnap someone else.”

You nod. “Understood, sir.”

You go to sit back down when you hear your name being called softly. You turn and Hotch motions you forward, pulling you to the side.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this case?” He asks softly, concern in his eyes.

You tilt your head. “Hotch, I’m fine. I’ll be okay. I want to work.”

He’s silent for a moment, studying your face. “At the first sign of emotional instability, I will not hesitate to pull you off this case.”

“Hotch. I understand. I am _ready_. Please trust me.”

“I do trust you,” he says reassuringly. “I’m just worried about you coming back to work so soon.”

“I know,” you smile at him softly. “I’ll be fine. I’m not distracted. I want to catch this son of a bitch just as much as you do.”

He nods, another soft smile tugging at his lips. “Okay. Good. Go sit down, we’re going to be landing soon.”

You turn away from Hotch, walking back to your seat next to Spencer. You strap in, looping your arm through his and resting your head back on his shoulder. Eventually, the jet lands and the team files out. You toss your bag in the FBI issued SUV, climbing into the front seat.

“Let’s go catch this asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a struggle for me to write, I guess I'm having writer's block :( I'm glad all of you are enjoying it though!


	28. Spencer's Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The teams works the case in Vegas, and you and Spencer pay a visit to your future mother-in-law.

“The unsub is a woman in her late twenties to early thirties. She’s recently lost a son, around the age of seven.” Hotch stands with his arms crossed in front of the officers.

“She’s grieving her own son, so she takes someone else’s around the same age,” you say. “She keeps them for a week, nurtures them, then if they don’t fit the mold of her fantasy, she drowns them.”

“Drowning is historically significant as the purest form of death next to burning to death.” Spencer sits on the edge of a desk. “Water is considered pure. She drowns them because she wants to keep them pure. It’s her sign of remorse.”

“This woman is delusional and fueled by grief,” Morgan continues. “She needs this kid to play into her fantasy, and if they don’t, they die.”

“We’re looking at recent hospital and mental institution records to try to narrow down our search,” JJ explains.

“Be on the lookout at the parks where the past abductions have taken place. It’s unlikely the unsub would revisit the scene of her crime with the child, but we can’t rule it out.” Prentiss glances around the room.

“We have two days to find Charlie Tucker,” Rossi says calmly. “Let’s make sure another kid doesn’t end up dead.”

The police nod and break, and you and the rest of the team move into a separate room, a map pinned to the board and victim photos pinned next to it. You lean against the table, eyebrows knit together as you look at the map.

“She frequents these parks and stalks her prey,” you mutter, fiddling with the ring on your left ring finger. “Do you think someone at the parks might’ve seen her?”

“We can always go ask,” Prentiss says. “Hotch?”

Hotch nods. “You two go. We’ll call Garcia and see if she has anything from the hospital or mental institution records.”

You nod, you and Prentiss leaving the station to go get into the SUV. You climb into the passenger seat, leaving her to drive. 

“We need to find this woman,” you mumble, staring out the window.

“We will,” she says reassuringly. “Maybe we’ll find someone at the parks.”

She parks the car outside of the first park and you climb out. The park isn’t super busy, it’s a Thursday afternoon. You walk up to a couple watching their kid and flash your badge.

“Hi, I’m Agent Y/l/n with the FBI, this is Agent Prentiss. We were just wondering if we could ask you a couple of questions.”

The man nods. “Sure. What about?”

“Do you come to this park often?” Prentiss asks.

“Yeah, a few times a week with Clara.” The mom motions to her daughter.

“Like, say, on Saturday afternoons?”

“Yeah, pretty much every Saturday,” the man says. “Why?”

“We’re looking for a woman who comes here a couple times a week—especially on Saturday afternoons. She would be in her late twenties, just sitting and watching. She wouldn’t have a kid. Might have a dog.”

The woman scrunches her brows. “Hm…there is someone who sticks out to me.”

“Who?” 

“I don’t know her name,” she says. “But, I think I’ve seen her hanging around before.”

“Can you remember what she looks like?” You ask, crossing your arms in front of you.

The man thinks for a second. “Um, short? She has, uh, straight blonde hair. Brown eyes. She has a dog—a black pitbull. The dog is really sweet, we’ve pet it a couple times, actually.”

“Anything else? Did you ever see her get in or out of a car?” 

The woman shakes her head. “No, never. I’ve only ever seen her walking or sitting.”

“Mama! Come play with me!” 

You turn to see the little curly haired girl running up to her parents, her arms waving wildly in the air. You grin at her, kneeling down.

“Hi there,” you say, giving the girl a small wave.

She grins sheepishly. “Hello.”

“What’s your name?” You ask.

“Clara,” she giggles. 

“I like your little ribbon, Clara,” you tell her, her hands flying to the little pink ribbon tied in her hair.

“Thanks,” she giggles again. She turns her attention to her parents. “Mama, play!”

You stand back up, looking at the parents. “Sorry, we’ve taken up too much of your time. Thank you, you’ve helped us immensely.”

You and Prentiss walk around to a few other people in the park, surprisingly getting a couple of descriptions that match what the first couple said. Satisfied, you walk back to the SUV, settling in the passenger seat. Despite the stress of the case, you’re smiling.

“You’re happier than you were before,” Prentiss notices.

“We have a physical description,” you say, tapping your fingers against your thigh.

“You’re good with them,” Prentiss says. “Kids.”

“Oh,” you blush, looking at your lap. “Thanks.”

“Do you want kids?” She keeps her eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” you reply, looking over at her. “Spencer and I…uh, I’ve stopped taking my birth control. He knows that, obviously.”

“Oh, so you really want kids!” She laughs.

You grin widely. “We both do. He’s been denied being a father too many times. We’re not in a rush or anything, but…”

“You’re ready,” she remarks, pulling into the station.

“Yeah, we are.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “Don’t, uh, don’t tell anyone else. I don’t want people to know we’re trying already. A lot of people would say it’s too soon.”

Prentiss tilts her head, looking at you. “I don’t think it’s too soon. You two love each other. You’re getting married. When you know, you know. It’s just you two, and everything else is just background noise.” She smiles. “I won’t tell anyone. I can keep a secret.”

“Thanks, Prentiss.” You smile at her.

You and Prentiss exit the vehicle, walking back into the station. You meet the rest of the team in the board room, all eyes turning to the two of you.

“Anything?” Rossi asks.

You nod. “A physical description. Straight blonde hair, brown eyes. And a black pitbull.”

Hotch raises his eyebrows, pulling out his phone. Garcia answers after one ring. “Garcia, are there any vet clinics within ten miles of this location?”

Furious typing, then, “Yep, three of them.”

“Can you check their records to see if any owners bring in a black pitbull?”

“Sir, you underestimate my magical computer powers. It’ll take me a few minutes. Call you back.”

The phone clicks and you sit at the table next to Spencer, who’s sitting on the edge of the table, facing the board. He looks down at you and smiles, reaching down to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face. The team waits for Garcia’s guaranteed call back—which happens four and a half minutes after her hang up.

“Okay, so me being the genius I am, I found the owner of a black pitbull. Her name is Marcy Scott, and wow, does she have a dark and twisty personal history.”

“How so?” Spencer asks.

“She was married with a son, his name was Daniel. He died when he was seven, about a year ago from leukemia. But the most interesting thing is her husband divorced her a month ago.”

“Right around the first kidnapping. That’s her trigger. Her stressor.” You glance at Spencer, raising your eyebrows.

“Does she have blonde hair, brown eyes?” Prentiss asks.

An image flashes up on the tablet, and you raise your eyebrows.

“I think we found our unsub.”

“Alright, Prentiss, Y/l/n, JJ, you’re with me.” Hotch nods at you. “Put on a vest.”

You suppress a childish smile. It’s your first time actually out in the field with a gun—your first time going to arrest someone. You strap on a vest, Spencer walking over to you.

“Please be safe,” he murmurs, his hand resting on your cheek. “I need my future wife to come back to me.”

“Oh shut up, I’ll be fine,” you tease, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

You follow Hotch, Prentiss, and JJ out of the station and pile into the SUV. The ride to Marcy’s house is short—she lives a short distance away from the parks. You get out, immediately pulling your gun out of the holster. 

“JJ, you’re with me. Prentiss, you’re with Y/l/n. We’ll take the front, you two take the back.”

You nod and you and Prentiss head to the back of the house, guns raised. There’s nothing fancy, not even a shed. You notice a small pile of leaves over a slightly raised patch on the grass, and you furrow your brows.

“Prentiss, over here,” you whisper, walking over to the pile. You kick away the leaves and reveal a little trapdoor. You nod at Prentiss, taking out your flashlight. 

She swings it open and you point your gun down the opening, slowly walking down the small stairs. Prentiss follows you, gun raised.

“FBI!” She shouts as the two of you enter into a bigger room.

You hear small whimpering and keep your gun raised, you and Prentiss walking over the where the sound is. Hunched up again the wall is a young boy, his dark hair matted to his forehead. His clothes are dirty, his eyes wide and bloodshot as they look at you and Prentiss. You holster your gun, Prentiss keeping hers out.

“Charlie?” You ask, raising your eyebrows. He nods, still pressed against the wall. “I’m Y/n. I’m here to take you home to your mommy and daddy. Would you like that?”

He nods again and you hold out your hand. He takes it and you help pull him up, Prentiss stays in the front of you as you walk back up the stairs. Charlie clings to your hand and the three of you walk back to the SUV. Hotch and JJ are escorting a screaming woman out of her house, hysterical sounds coming from her. She spots Charlie and her screams grow louder.

“Daniel!” She cries. “Daniel, don’t let them take me away!”

Charlie clings to your leg and you look at the woman as Hotch puts her in the police car. Swallowing, you pull Charlie into the SUV, and you and the team set back off to the station. 

The reunion between Charlie and his family is sweet, and you turn toward Spencer, a grin on your face.

“Does this mean I get to meet your mom now?”

Spencer gives you a small grin. “Yes, it means you get to meet my mom.”

You turn to Hotch. “When are you guys heading back?”

He tilts his head. “We were planning on leaving now. Why?”

“I’m meeting Spencer’s mom. Do we need to buy a plane ticket out of here?” You ask him.

Hotch shakes his head. “We can wait. We can leave tonight.”

You nod. “Thanks, Hotch.” You look at Spencer, smile growing wider as you grip his hand. “Let’s go meet your mom!”

You grip Spencer’s hand as you walk into Bennington Sanitarium, your nervous on fire.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask, looking up at him.

He squeezes your hand. “She already loves you, sweetheart.”

You take in a deep breath as Spencer greets the front desk nurse.

“Spencer! It’s been a while since we’ve seen you around,” she says with a smile, eyes flicking to you. “Who’s this?”

Spencer grins, looking down at you. “This is Y/n, my fiancée.” 

The nurse gasps. “Congratulations! I can see why you haven’t been around!”

“Thanks, Jen. Are we good to go?”

She nods. “Yeah, have a good visit. Oh, and she’s having a good day today.”

“That’s good,” Spencer murmurs, gripping your hand tighter as the two of you walk into the lounge area of the sanitarium. 

Spencer leads you over to a woman with short, blonde hair. She’s in a chair by a window, a book open in front of her. Of course, she reads, just like Spencer. The two of you approach her, stopping a couple feet away.

“Hey, mom,” Spencer says softly.

She looks up, the smile lighting up her face as she looks at Spencer. “Spencer!” She stands, bringing Spencer in for a small hug, which he returns. “This is a surprise.”

“We had a case here, so I thought we’d come by and see you.” Spencer looks over at you. “Mom, this is—“

“Y/n,” she says, eyes landing on you. “Spencer’s told me a lot about you.”

You smile at her. “Has he now?” You throw him a sly look. “All good things, I hope?”

“All good,” she reassures, sitting back down. “I’m Diana, by the way.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” you tell her, sitting across from her. 

She looks up at Spencer. “How’d the case go?”

“It went well,” Spencer purses his lips. “Caught the bad guy. Well, uh, girl.”

“Spencer, if you could be a dear and go to my room for me? I have a little present for you and Y/n.”

Spencer looks at you and you give him a reassuring nod. He gives you a soft smile before turning around and walking away. Diana reaches across the table, laying her hand on yours.

“Did you know Spencer writes me a letter almost every day?” She asks, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“Yes, I do,” you reply, grinning. “He loves you very much.”

Her fingers graze over the ring on your left hand. “He loves you. He mentions you in almost every letter he writes.” Her eyes land on your face again, soft. “Do you know what he said when he first mentioned you?”

“What?” You ask, curiosity lacing your tone.

“He said, ‘Mom, I think I’ve met the girl I’m going to marry.’ It’s like he could tell the future, hm?” 

Your chest swells with warmth. “He said that?”

She nods. “That he did. I never thought I’d live to see my little Spencer get married. When were you two thinking of having the wedding?”

You grin, a little blush spreading across your cheeks. “October. His birthday is the twenty-eighth, and we both love Halloween, so we just figured a Halloween wedding date would be fun.”

“That’s cute,” she says, grinning. She squeezes your hand. “Spencer told me…about your father. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

Your smile turns a little sad, your voice quiet. “Thank you.”

“Spencer’s dad left him when he was young.” Her focus turns far away, gazing out the window. “He practically took care of me.”

You squeeze her hand. “You raised a good boy, Diana. He’s…he’s everything to me. Thank you.”

She turns her gaze back to you. “I’m just happy he found someone like you.”

Your conversation is interrupted by Spencer returning, holding a little book shaped package, wrapped up. 

“I had the nurses wrap it, of course,” she murmurs. “Please, open it.”

Spencer hands the little package to you and you gently tear it open. It reveals a hardcover novel.

“The Sign of Four?” You ask, looking up at Diana, then Spencer.

“Mom, you used to read this to me as a kid,” Spencer murmurs, squeezing your thigh softly.

You open the book, finding Diana’s cursive handwriting in the front pages of the book. “You’re giving this to me?”

“It’s one of Spencer’s favorites,” she says, withdrawing her hand from you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, extremely touched. “I…thank you.”

The three of you converse for a while, and you can see where Spencer gets his smarts from. Despite being schizophrenic, Diana’s extremely intelligent. Looking at her, you see where Spencer gets it from—his spark from knowledge. He’s like his mom.

“Mom, we have to go,” Spencer says, standing up. “Hotch is expecting us back.”

Diana stands. “Go, go. I’m expecting a wedding invite from you two.”

Spencer hugs her, and she mutters something in his ear. After they break apart, she hugs you, her grip tight.

“Be safe. Protect him,” she whispers in your ear. You nod against her before breaking the hug. 

With that, you and Spencer exit the sanitarium, climbing back into the car. The drive to the jet is quiet, Spencer’s hand gripping yours.

“What did she say to you?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Just to be safe…and to protect you,” you answer him, smiling, clutching the book in your lap with your unoccupied hand. “What did she say to you?”

Spencer’s quiet for a moment. “She told me to keep you close. To cherish every minute we have together.” After a second, he glances at you. “What did the two of you talk about?”

A sly grin appears on your face, recalling Diana’s words. “Just girl stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

Spencer chuckles. “Alright then.”

Spencer parks the car in front of the jet, and you get out, gripping his hand.

“Come on, love. Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter. :)  
> I'm kinda sad because there are only a few chapters left of this book. :( But don't worry, I'll let you know when the time comes.


	29. Coffee Mugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team goes out for dinner, and you and Spencer have some fun.

You groan, dropping the pen on your desk as you lean back in your chair. “Can we have a case already? Paperwork is driving me _insane_.”

Prentiss chuckles next to you. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it, I promise.”

You roll your eyes, looking back down at the paperwork in front of you. It had been a month since the case in Las Vegas, and so far, no new cases had popped up. Either the serial killers of the world are at peace, or local PD just really aren’t doing their job. Either way, the team had done nothing but paperwork for the past month. 

“Hey, maybe we should go out tonight? Like to eat? As a team?” JJ suggests, looking around at everyone in the office.

You lock eyes with Spencer, a little grin on his face. “I think that would be fun.”

“Dinner first, bar after, maybe?” Morgan asks, resting his elbows on his desk. 

“I’m down,” Prentiss says.

“Ooh, count me in!” Garcia pipes up from the coffee pot.

“I’m down for dinner, but Y/n and I will probably skip out on the bar,” Spence says, raising his eyebrows a little. You know _that_ look.

You giggle, a blush creeping across your cheeks. “Yeah, Spencer and I have some plans. We’ve been, uh, planning them for a while.”

“Do those plans involve you two horizontal on a bed?” Morgan’s teasing grin looks like it’s going to break his face.

“Or vertical against a wall…” Prentiss continues, giggling.

“Oh, shut up!” You respond, hitting her arm. 

The team laughs and Hotch emerges from his office. “What’s so funny?”

“I heard laughing, I want in on the joke,” Rossi says, poking his head out of his office.

You shake your head. “No you don’t, Rossi.”

“We’re going out to dinner tonight as a team; do you guys want to come?” JJ asks, twiddling the pen in her fingers.

“I can do that,” Hotch says. “I can’t stay out too late because I have Jack, but dinner sounds nice.”

“I know the perfect Italian place to go,” Rossi says, waltzing down the stairs.

“Of course you do,” Prentiss quips.

You stand, closing the file by your desk. You walk over to Spencer’s, running your fingers through his hair softly. He looks up at you, a sly smile on his face. You lean down, your lips at his ear.

“Do you think the team knows I’m going to make you my bitch tonight?” You whisper, your voice low.

His breath hitches in his throat and you stand back slightly, his hazel eyes looking into yours. “They definitely don’t know.”

“Good,” you whisper back. “You rarely let me domin—“

“What are you two whispering about?” Garcia calls from across the room.

You stand back up, giggling. “Nothing, Garcia.”

“Uh-huh,” Morgan says. “Sure.”

The team laughs, Rossi and Hotch included, and you all pile into your separate cars to go to the little restaurant Rossi suggested. Spencer drives, his hand rubbing your thigh softly. He parks in the parking lot behind the restaurant, looking over at you.

“So here’s how this is gonna go,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt and turning toward him. “I’m gonna tease you as much as I want during this dinner, and then when we get home, I’m gonna tie you up and fuck you.”

Spencer’s eyes darken at your words, a small hint of red flushing his cheeks. “Deal,” he says breathily.

“Deal,” you grin. You lean over and give him a kiss, his hands running through your hair. “Let’s go.”

You exit the car, lacing your fingers with his as you walk to the front of the restaurant. You walk inside, noticing the team sitting at a large table. Spencer takes a seat at the end, you beside him. 

“Nice of the love birds to finally show up,” Morgan jokes, his teasing tone causing a smile to break out on your face.

“Morgan, I will punch you,” you joke back, laughing.

You slide your hand onto Spencer’s thigh, squeezing it slightly. The waitress comes around, getting everyone’s drink orders. You order a water with lemon, Spencer orders a beer.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” He whispers, tilting his head.

You look at him, your lips tugging up at the corners. “I wanna be sober when we…y’know.”

Spencer nods, his eyes widening slightly when your hand moves up his thigh, resting on his crotch. You palm his crotch lightly, focusing your attention on the team in front of you. 

“So, JJ, how’s Will and Henry?” You ask, grinning at her.

“They’re really good,” she says, taking a sip of her wine. “Will’s at home with him now. As much as I love going on cases, it’s kind of been nice that there’s been a lack of them this month.”

“Yeah, you get to see your family a lot more,” you reply.

As you speak, you apply more pressure to Spencer’s crotch, his right hand moving to rest on your thigh. His nails dig in slightly as his breath catches in his throat, feeling him get harder underneath your touch. You smirk slightly, continuing your conversation with the team.

“So, Y/n, how are you adjusting to life in the BAU?” Rossi asks, taking a sip of his scotch.

“It’s actually been…really nice,” you say as you continue to rub Spencer’s clothed erection. “Despite…losing my dad, it’s been a dream.”

Spencer stifles a moan with a cough, taking a sip of his beer. You grin, looking over at him. Despite the moan slip up, he’s acting casually, making conversation with Prentiss next to him. The waitress comes over and gets everyone’s order, and you order chicken Alfredo. A classic. 

You lift your hand off Spencer’s crotch, an audible exhale coming from him. You grab a piece of bread from the table, eating it slowly as you watch your coworkers talk. Morgan’s talking to the team about some new girl he’s dating—a doctor.

“Oh, the big bachelor Derek Morgan is actually dating someone?” You marvel, your hand covering your mouth in faux awe. 

“Shut up,” he mutters, shooting you a glance.

“Sorry, sorry,” you reply, giggling as you finish your bread.

Your hand slips back under the table, and this time, you slip your hand inside Spencer’s pants, rubbing his hard dick through his boxers. You feel him tense, watching him grip his beer bottle tighter. He’s trying so hard not to let on—it’s kind of funny.

“Ooh, Y/n, the girls and I are planning a girl’s night next week,” Garcia says to you. “We haven’t been able to do one in a while because of bad people murdering other people, BUT we decided it’s finally time to have another one. Wanna come along?” 

“Yeah, that sounds fun!” You say, squeezing Spencer’s clothed dick lightly, running your thumb over the head. You feel a slight wetness—his precum.

“Oh, yay! It’ll be so fun! We go to this one club and dance and do, like, a million shots,” she explains, the smile widening on her face. “I’m so glad you’re coming.”

“Me, too.” Your smile widens at her. 

Garcia leans into you. “Did you get the alterations done on your wedding dress? Have you gone back and tried it back on yet?”

You shake your head. “No, I was gonna do that this weekend. The bridal shop called and told me they were done with it, but I haven’t had a chance to go. Wanna come with me, Ms. Maid of Honor?”

She grins. “I’d love to, Ms. Bride to Be.”

You and Garcia had gone wedding dress shopping three weeks ago, and you found the perfect dress. It was just what you wanted—but it needed to be altered to fit you. 

Spencer’s nails dig into your thigh harder, and you look up at his face. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, trying his best to carry on a conversation with Prentiss. You rub a bit faster, his hand moving from your thigh to your wrist, stopping you.

The food is his saving grace, arriving just in time. You remove your hand from his pants, setting it on your lap as you grab the fork with your other hand. The rest of the dinner is fun and full of talk—and the Alfredo tastes fucking amazing. Rossi _insists_ on paying for everyone’s dinner, which is met with little resistance from you. He _is_ loaded after all. 

You decide against teasing Spencer again, letting his dick calm down so it won’t cause any suspicious glances when he stands. You grip his hand in yours as you wave bye to the team, you two walking back to the car. You get into the passenger’s seat and Spencer starts the car.

He glances over at you and you smirk at him. “Yes?”

“That was fucking torture,” he groans, backing out of the parking space. “Do you know how hard it was to _not_ bend you over the table and fuck you in the middle of that restaurant?”

His words made your stomach flutter, heat pooling in your core. “That’s the whole point, Spence. And I’m not done.”

He begins driving and you unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching over to unbutton his pants. You shift your position in the car slightly, resting on one knee.

“What are you—“

“Shut up and drive,” you reply sternly, pushing his pants and boxers down slightly. 

You pull his half hard dick out of his boxers, wrapping your hand around it before trailing your tongue up his length and swirling it around the tip. He groans, the noise growing louder as you begin taking him in your mouth. He quickly grows hard as you bob your head up and down, taking him deeper in your mouth each time. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “I—I have to concentrate.”

You pull his dick out of your mouth. “Then concentrate. We’ll be home some.”

You push him back into your mouth again, moaning slightly when he hits the back of your throat. You hold him there for a second, gagging, a long moan leaving Spencer. You grin internally—you have him wrapped around your fucking finger. You set a moderate pace, swirling your tongue around his length as you take him in your mouth, one of his hands leaving the steering wheel to grip your hair.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close,” he moans out, his voice breathy.

You take him out of your mouth and sit back up, wiping some of the spit off your chin. He whines—he actually _whines_ , throwing his head back on the headrest. Perfect timing, too—Spencer parking the car outside of the complex. 

He pushes his hard dick back into his pants and buttons them, basically turning into the fucking Flash and racing up the steps to the apartment. You laugh as you follow him, shaking your head. He fumbles with the key and opens the door, and you immediately grab his shirt and pull him to you, kissing him deeply. 

He shuts the door, his fingers working the buttons on his shirt, popping them open one by one. You kick your heels off before tossing your shirt over your head, running your hands down Spencer’s bare chest as he shakes his shirt off. Breaking the kiss, you run your fingers through his hair.

“Take off the rest of your clothes and get in bed,” you whisper against his lips.

He grins and moves to the bedroom, already unbuttoning his pants as he walks away. You give him a minute before following him, looking at him lying on his back, his dick hard and leaking precum. 

You rifle through his dresser until you find one of his black silk ties, walking over to him and binding his wrists together before attaching them to the bed. He bites his bottom lip softly as he looks up at you, and you take the rest of your clothes off, climbing onto the bed. 

You trail a finger lightly up his length, watching him jolt slightly underneath you. A soft moan rushes past his lips and you giggle.

“So needy for me, Dr. Reid,” you say, straddling him, grinding your bare, wet pussy over his dick. 

You lean forward, stifling his moan with your mouth as you kiss him, grinding over his dick slowly. His hands twitch in the restraints, his tongue pushing into your mouth. You deepen the kiss, lightly trailing your nails down his stomach.

You break the kiss, panting softly. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” he whispers breathily. “Please.”

You sit up, resting your hands on his lower stomach as you lift your hips up, aligning his dick with your entrance. You slowly sink down, both of you letting out soft moans as you sit on his dick. You grind your hips again, pushing him deeper into you as you adjust to his length. His eyes meet yours, dark and needy, and you move one of your hands to his neck.

You begin riding him slowly, feeling his pulse jump underneath your fingers. You groan softly, his dick hitting the perfect spot inside of you as you ride him. You increase your pace, Spencer’s own moans ringing out around you. You apply pressure to his neck, the moans becoming strained, Spencer’s eyes never leaving yours.

“Such a good boy,” you whisper, your nails digging into Spencer’s stomach.

Your pace increases, and you can already feel the orgasm bubbling in your lower stomach. You apply more pressure to Spencer’s neck as you feel his dick twitch inside of you.

“No—ah, fuck—you’re not allowed to cum until I do,” you groan out. Spencer’s moans are caught in his throat as you slam down on him, your other hand leaving his stomach and moving to your clit.

You ease up on his neck slightly, Spencer inhaling as he pushes his hips up to thrust into you as you come down. The sensation makes your head spin, letting out a long moan as you feel your release hit you. Your pussy tightens around him, clenching, your legs shaking. Your grip tightens around his throat as pure euphoria runs through you. You falter slightly as your orgasm ripples through you, Spencer’s own thrusts not slowly, thrusting into you through your orgasm. He’s close, and you can feel it.

You begin riding him again, meeting his eyes, a question in them. “Ask me.”

You loosen your grip and he inhales, a string of moans leaving him. “C-Can I please cum? Please?!”

You nod and he buries himself inside of you as he finishes, feeling his warm load fill you up. He groans, your name spilling out of his mouth like a prayer. You stay sitting on him for a moment, catching your breath. You lean forward slightly, reaching up to untie his arms. They flop to his sides and you lean over, pressing your lips against his. You kiss him lovingly, Spencer’s arms wrapping around you after a moment.

Breaking the kiss, he squeezes you. “I love you, baby.”

You smile, kissing him again. “I love you more.”

You lean back against the couch, The Sign of Four in your hands. Your eyes scan the words on the page, a blanket covering your lap. It had been two days since the team dinner, and you and Spencer had spent them lounging around the apartment and ordering takeout. You glance at the clock. 2:28 PM. Spencer had been gone running errands for a couple hours.

The door swings open, Spencer carrying in some groceries. He kicks the door shut with his foot, going into the kitchen to put the stuff away.

“Hey, love, how was the store?” You ask, bookmarking the page carefully and setting it down. 

“Crowded,” he mutters. “You would think the stores are going out of fucking business with how busy it is.”

You hum, acknowledging his words. “When you get a second, I have a present for you.”

“A present for me?” He asks, walking back into the living room. “What for?”

“I was out yesterday and I saw something, and it made me think of you, so I got it.” You motion to the little bag sitting on the coffee table. “Open it!”

You throw the blanket off of you, Spencer taking a seat next to you as his grabs the little bag. He fiddles with the tissue paper, removing it and throwing it on the floor before he pulls the coffee mug from bag. You smile, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch him read the mug.

“What?” He asks, looking up at you, confusion crossing his face. He looks back down at the mug and rereads the words. “’World’s Best Dad’?” He turns the cup around to face you and you tilt your head, the smile on your face growing bigger. His eyes widen, a smile appearing on his face. “Are you serious?”

You nod. “Yeah, Spence. I found out yesterday. I took like seven tests.”

Spencer laughs, placing the cup on the table before wrapping his arms around you, twirling you around. You giggle, tears brimming in your eyes as he laughs. He sets you down, pulling back and holding your face in his hands. Tears spring at the corners of his eyes.

“How far along are you?” He asks, running his thumb over your cheek.

“Six weeks,” you reply, running your hands through his hair. You look into his eyes, warmth and happiness bubbling in your chest. “You’re gonna be a dad, Spence.”

Tears fall down his cheeks, happy tears. When he speaks, his voice breaks. “I’m gonna be a dad.”

You kiss him, Spencer laughing into the kiss as he wraps his arms around you again. You pull back, wiping his cheeks with your fingers.

“I hope you didn’t think it was too cheesy. I wanted to get you a mug because, you know, you’re a coffee addict and—“

“Hey,” he says softly, resting his forehead against yours. “It was perfect. I love you so much.” His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing it gently.

You put your hand over his, smiling. “I love you.”

He pulls back, eyes searching yours. “Let’s get married. Tonight.”

“What?” You ask, eyes widening.

“You have your dress. I can go rent a tux. All we need is the team and my mom and Jamie.” Spencer holds your gaze, one of his hands cupping your cheek. “I can fly her out here. We can get married tonight. I know Rossi’s been itching to host another wedding since JJ’s.” He smiles at you comfortingly. “We don’t need anything big. Just you and me and the people who love us. I don’t want to waste another second of my life not being married to you.”

Tears well in your eyes, your lower lip trembling. There’s so much love in his words—you’ve never been loved like this. Never. “Okay. Okay. Let’s get married tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I tell you guys I cried writing this chapter, I mean it. I'm still crying omg.


	30. For Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Spencer are getting married!

“Oh, honey, you look beautiful.”

You look at Garcia over your shoulder, grinning at her. “Thanks, Garcia.”

“Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you more gorgeous,” Jamie says, walking over beside you to squeeze your hand.

You look at yourself in the mirror—your wedding dress is all you’ve ever imagined it to be. It fits you like a glove, billowing down to the ground, a small train behind you. Garcia and Jamie have been working on your hair, forming it into a braided up-do, leaving two pieces down to frame your face, curled in loose ringlets. Prentiss had given you a light smoky eye, adding a bit of blush to your cheeks, and finishing the look with a soft pink lipstick. JJ comes up behind you, pushing the little comb of the veil into your up-do. It falls across your shoulders, and you marvel at how you look. 

“Holy shit, I’m getting married,” you whisper, a small smile on your lips.

“Yes, honey, that you are,” Garcia says, turning you to face her. Her smile looks like it’s going to break her face. She takes in a deep breath. “I’m so happy for you. And for Spencer. He’s been waiting for this for a long time.”

Garcia leads you over to a little couch—you were all crowded into one of Rossi’s spare rooms. You use the term “spare” loosely—it’s almost as big as you and Spencer’s apartment. You sit, and Jamie brings over a flute of champagne for you.

“We have to celebrate!” She says, grinning. “I know we didn’t see much of each other this semester but…I love you. And I will always be here for you, no matter what, okay?”

You take the champagne flute, holding it down by your leg. “Thanks, Jamie. I love you, too. You’ll always be one of my best friends in the whole universe.”

She grins and holds up her champagne. “To you. And to Spencer.”

They all take a sip but you smile, setting the glass on the small table in front of you. “I…actually can’t drink that.”

Prentiss scrunches her eyebrows. “Why not? It’s your wedding day!”

You look up at them, a world-class grin spreading across your face. “I’m pregnant.”

Garcia almost drops her champagne flute. “Are you serious?!”

You nod. “Yeah, I found out yesterday and I told Spencer today.”

JJ forces you to your feet, pulling you into a hug. “Oh my god, congratulations!”

You pull back, Prentiss immediately tackling you into a hug. You hug Garcia and she tears up, downing her champagne.

“If I’m not that baby’s godmother, I will riot. Do you hear me Y/n?” She points a finger at you, her voice light.

“Understood, Ms. Garcia.” You giggle, handing your champagne to Jamie. “Do you think Spencer’s ready yet?”

Prentiss puts her glass down. “I’ll go check.”

You take a seat back on the little couch, taking in a deep breath. “Is it normal to be super nervous? Oh my god, I’m nervous.”

JJ gives a light laugh and sits down next to you. “I was nervous, too. I’m sure Reid told you about me and Will’s wedding—it was as spontaneous as this one.”

You take a deep breath. “All of this just seems so surreal, you know? Just six months ago I was just a college student with no boyfriend and very little plans. And now…”

“Now, you are an FBI agent getting married to one of the most amazing people I know,” Garcia says softly.

“Yeah, I’ve never known anyone as badass as you.” Jamie stands behind you, squeezing your shoulders.

Prentiss walks in. “Alright, Spence is ready. Y/n, stay here, wait five minutes, then come downstairs, okay?”

Garcia kisses your cheek. “We’ll be waiting in the backyard.”

“I love you,” Jamie says, linking arms with JJ as they all walk out together.

You take a deep breath, your nerves bundling in your chest. You squeeze the fabric of your wedding dress, biting the inside of your cheek. You wish your dad were here to walk you down the aisle. For a second, it feels like someone’s twisting your heart in their hands, but it quickly passes. It’s too late to dwell on the past, on the grief. You have to move forward.

“Y/n.”

You look up, eyes landing on Hotch, wearing a nice blue suit. Tilting your head, you stand, walking over to him.

“Hey, Hotch,” you say, inhaling deeply again.

“You look beautiful,” he gives you one of those rare smiles, and it almost puts you at ease.

“Thank you.” You furrow your brows. “Why are you here?”

“Someone has to walk you down the aisle, don’t they?” 

You feel your lower lip tremble, trying to keep the tears from prickling in your eyes. “Are you serious?”

He extends a hand and you take it. “Of course. Come on, your future husband’s waiting.”

You loop your arm through his, and he helps you down the stairs of Rossi’s mansion. The closer you get to the back door, the louder your heart seems to bang in your ears. You clutch Hotch’s arm, taking a steady breath as you stop right in front of the back door.

“Let’s do this.”

He opens the door for you, and you walk outside. The team, Jamie, and Diana—bless her—stand, turning their heads toward you. You loop your arm through Hotch’s again, eyes landing on Spencer at the end of the aisle as he turns around to look at you.

He’s wearing a black tux—with a purple tie. Of course. A small purple flower rests in his front pocket. His hair frames his face, perfectly styled, his pink lips turned into a smile. His lower lip is trembling as he looks at you, eyes glassy, looking at you with as much love the universe has to offer. A couple tears fall down your face as you look at him, and you pat them away. Hotch slips his handkerchief in your hand and you laugh lightly, thanking him as you pat your eyes, clutching it tightly in your hand.

You look at the gazes from your team—Garcia is waiting for you to come stand by her, Morgan standing by Spencer; JJ, and Jamie in a row together. Prentiss and Rossi and a beautiful girl you don’t recognize—Morgan’s girlfriend, you presume—stand on the opposite side of them, and you give Rossi a smile, which he gratefully returns. Diana grabs your hand and squeezes as you walk by, tears in her eyes. After a short walk, you reach the end of the aisle. You give Hotch his handkerchief back, and he leans over and gives you a small kiss on the cheek. You squeeze his arm before removing it, Spencer offering you his left hand.

You take it, squeezing as you look into his tearful, hazel eyes. He’s smiling so wide, you think his face is going to crack. You return his smile, a breathless laugh coming from you.

“Hi,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

“Hi,” you whisper back, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You look so beautiful.” 

“So do you.”

The lady ordaining clears her throat and you and Spencer look toward her, giving her an apologetic smile. The small crowd of your friends laugh, and she begins speaking. 

“We are gathered here today, on this beautiful, beautiful night, to celebrate the love between Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n and Spencer Walter Reid.” She looks at you and Spencer. “The couple have informed me they have prepared their own vows, which they will now exchange.” She looks at you and nods.

You take a deep breath, tears already forming in your eyes. “It’s hard to believe that just over six months ago, I had no idea you existed. I was just a psychology student trying to be a profiler who decided to go out to a bar with her best friend—and I almost didn’t want to go.” Jamie laughs and you throw her a glance, grinning. You turn back to Spencer, squeezing his hand. “By the universe’s design, I met you. You were just a guy in a bar who turned out to be my professor.” This earns you a laugh from Morgan. “I don’t love easily. I don’t trust easily. But, Spencer Reid, trusting you and loving you has by far been the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. I don’t know how I ever lived before you started loving me.” Your lower lip trembles, a small tear running down your cheek. Spencer gives a breathy laugh, tears welling in his eyes as he wipes the tear away gently. “You are my everything. You’ve been there with me through some of the hardest times in my life.” Your voice cracks and you blink, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “I’m so in love with you. I can’t wait to start a family with you.” Your right hand drops to your stomach, Spencer’s eyes flicking down and back up again, his eyes bursting with adoration for you. You give a breathy laugh, lifting your hand off your stomach and wiping under your eyes gently. “I can’t wait to be officially married to you, Spencer Reid. I love you so much, and I’ll keep loving you for the rest of my life.”

Spencer lets out a shaky breath, gazing into your eyes. He motions his mom over, and she hands him a folded piece of paper. She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before going to sit back down.

“This letter,” Spencer holds the letter up, “is the letter I sent to my mom after our first date.” He hands the letter to you and you clutch it in your hand. “I’m going to recite it now, if that’s okay.” He takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes as he begins speaking. “’Hey mom. I know I send you a letter every day, and today might not seem different from any other day—but it is. Last night, I went on a date with Y/n. Do you remember me mentioning her?’” Spencer grins, and you glance at Diana. She beams at you. “’The date…was perfect. She’s perfect. She’s different, mom. She makes me better—a better person, a better teacher, a better profiler. She’s pure and unpredictable, and that’s what I love about her.’” Tears well in his eyes. “’Going away on cases seems to hurt me more now that I’m away from her. I can’t sleep—the only time I can sleep is when she’s near me. Is that love? Is that what love is supposed to feel like?’” He squeezes your hand, sniffing softly. You can’t help the tears that fall down your face. “’If it is, I never want it to end. I know it’s premature, mom, but…I think I’ve met the girl I’m going to marry. I don’t feel whole unless I’m around her—she seems to have stolen a piece of my heart. That sounds cheesy—but it’s true. She has a piece of me. And I don’t ever want it back. Love, Spencer.’” His eyes search yours, tears falling down both of your cheeks now. “I love you, Y/n. I’m so in love with you. I can’t wait to meet our baby. I can’t wait to be officially married to you. I can’t wait to spend the rest of forever with you.” With that, Spencer lifts up your hand, kissing it softly. It reminds you of your first date—when he kissed your hand at the Indian restaurant. 

The officiate looks at you and Spencer, a wide smile on her face. “Well, by the power invested in me by the State of Virginia and the District of Columbia, you are now husband and wife! You may now kiss the bride.”

Giggling, Spencer wraps his arms around you, kissing you softly, and for a moment, it’s just you two. You kiss him back, holding his face in your hands, careful to not get the letter he gave you wet with both of your tears. The kiss is sweet—full of love and care and passion. After a moment, you pull away, the cheers from your friends ringing in your ears. You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together, wiping under his eyes gently as the two of you begin walking toward your friends. 

Jamie attacks you, her tears falling onto your shoulder as she hugs you. “I love you so fucking much. Congratulations, girl!”

You hug her back tightly. “I love you, too.”

JJ hugs you, whispering her congratulations into your ear. Garcia squeezes you, almost cracking your spine in half as she does. Prentiss hugs you, giving you a little kiss on the cheek. 

Morgan engulfs you in a bear hug. “Congratulations, newbie.”

You pull away, laughing. “I will hit you on my wedding night. In the face.”

He laughs, gesturing to the beautiful woman next to him. “This is Savannah. Savannah, this is Y/n.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you say, reaching your hand out.

She surprises you with a hug. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

A pair of arms twirls you around. “Congratulazioni!” Rossi says, kissing you on both cheeks before wrapping you in a hug. 

“Thank you so much for doing this for us, Rossi,” you whisper, pulling away from the hug.

“It was my honor,” Rossi replies, hand on your shoulder. “Now, we celebrate with my expensive scotch.”

“Rossi, I’m _pregnant_ ,” you tell him, laughing.

”Oh! Well, I’ll just drink enough for the both of us!” He laughs.

Hotch pulls you in for a hug. “Congratulations, Y/n. Now we have you on the team in more ways than one, hm?”

You grin, pulling away. “Thank you, Aaron. For everything.”

He squeezes your shoulder. “Of course.”

Someone taps your shoulder and you turn to find Diana standing behind you, wringing her hands together. She pulls you in for a big hug, rocking you gently.

“I’m so very proud to call you my daughter,” she whispers, giving the side of your head a small kiss.

“Thank you,” you whisper, tears springing at your eyes again. It had been so long since you’ve had a mom. Diana isn’t perfect—but she tries. And that’s all you need.

You release her and turn to Spencer, raising your eyebrows. “And now?”

“We celebrate.”

The two of you and your friends begin to celebrate, drinking and laughing as Rossi plays music over his speaker system. You dance with everyone—the whole team, Jamie, Savannah, even Diana. Eventually, the sweet, psychedelic chords of Rhiannon start playing and you turn to Spencer, your smile wide.

“Can my wife spare a dance for me?” He asks, holding out his hand.

“I can always dance with my husband.” You take his hand and he pulls you in. You wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him closer.

“I had Rossi put this song on. I remember it—it played on the radio on our first date.” He sways to the beat, managing to still make it a slow dance, his hand on your lower back.

“And I told you to listen to Fleetwood Mac,” you giggle. 

“And you sang for me,” he whispers, looking at you with love in his eyes.

You lean forward, lips at his ear, singing softly. “ _’All your life you’ve never seen a woman taken by the wind. Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win?’_ ” 

“I think I’ve won,” he whispers, giving a breathy laugh.

“So have I,” you whisper, pulling back to look into his eyes again.

He leans in, and you kiss him, lips pressing firmly against his. After a moment, he pulls back, dancing and whispering angelic everything’s to you. 

After a while, the party winds down, and you and Spencer say goodbye to your friends. You hug Diana goodbye, Spencer promising he’ll drive her to the airport tomorrow. You hold hands all the way home, your dress bundled up in the car. You and Spencer walk up to the apartment, Spencer unlocking the door and swinging it open. You yelp as he swipes his hands underneath you, picking you up bridal style.

“Are you ready to begin our lives together, Mrs. Reid?” He asks, smiling down at you.

You smile at him, reaching up to caress his cheek. “I’ve been ready my entire life, Spencer Reid.”

And with that, he crosses the threshold into the apartment, the two of you ready to spend the rest of your lives together. For forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all writing this chapter made me full on SOB. Also, there's an epilogue, so don't worry I'm posting that right now too.  
> Thank you guys so much for all of your support on this fic. It has meant the absolute world to me. <3


	31. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years later...

“Joseph Aaron Reid! Come inside! Your dad’s ready to start Star Trek!”

The four-year old boy comes running over to you, his curly brown hair bouncing as he runs. “Are you gonna watch with us, mama?”

You pick him up, tickling him and he shrieks, giggles escaping him. “No, mama has to go to a work meeting with her boss. But daddy is gonna keep you and Rhiannon company, okay?”

You cross through the backdoor of you and Spencer’s house, letting Joseph down. He runs and jumps on the couch, snuggling into the covers.

“Spence!” You call out, walking into the kitchen.

You hear Spencer’s soft footsteps coming down the stairs, cradling Rhiannon in his arms. You walk over to him, smiling at the sleeping one-year old.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers, looking up at you.

You smile at him, leaning in to give him a soft kiss. “Thank you for letting me name her.”

He laughs. “Rhiannon Diana is a beautiful name.”

“Well, Joseph is sitting on the couch, ready to start Star Trek. I have to go meet Hotch for some reason; he called me in to talk about something.”

Spencer looks back down at Rhiannon sleeping in his arms. “We’ll be fine. Won’t we Joseph?” Joseph pipes up a small “yes!” and Spencer laughs. “It’s never too early to introduce them to Star Trek.”

You giggle, leaning in to kiss him again. “I’ll be home soon, okay? Think about what you want for dinner. I’m _not_ doing takeout again.”

He grins at you. “Okay. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, baby.”

You grab your keys and walk out of your house, locking the door behind you. Getting into your car, you drive the twenty minutes to FBI Headquarters, parking in your designated spot. Climbing out, you briskly walk inside, the fall air cold in your lungs. You push open the doors to the BAU, immediately running into JJ.

“Oh, hey!” She says, raising her eyebrows. “I thought it was your day off.”

You shrug. “It is. Hotch needs to meet with me about something.”

“Oof,” she murmurs. “Well, have fun. How are Joseph and Rhiannon?”

“They’re perfect. How about Henry and Michael?” 

She grins. “Also perfect.”

As you walk to Hotch’s office, you glance around the bullpen. Morgan sitting at his desk, Garcia leaning against it, engrossed in a conversation. Prentiss scribbles on some paperwork at her desk. Rossi’s office door is propped open.

You knock on Hotch’s door lightly before opening it, Hotch immediately standing up when you enter.

“Y/n, thank you for meeting me on your day off.”

You sit in front of his desk. “Of course, sir. What is it?”

He clears his throat, leaning forward in his desk. “In the late nineteen-eighties, the BAU was investigating a serial killer who killed up and down the East coast. He killed young women—usually higher-status women. He would kidnap them and torture them in various ways—burning, cutting, and sometimes went as far as peeling off their skin. He _always_ cut off their ring fingers. Both of them. He went dormant in nineteen-ninety two. He was dormant all the way up until four years ago. The BAU came across a body that matched his signature perfectly—and it was recent. So far, six other bodies have been discovered—the most recent kidnapping has a witness. The witness was sent to a sketch artist, and they sent the sketch to us.”

You scrunch your eyebrows, shaking your head. “Hotch, why are you telling me all of this?”

He swallows, pulling a piece of paper from a file in front of him and turning it around so you can see it. Your eyes land on the sketch and your stomach turns so violently, you think you’re going to throw up on Hotch’s desk.

“Because, Y/n, the unsub is your father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! There's gonna be A SEQUEL, BABY.


End file.
